Hours to Renewal
by EK
Summary: Chapter 16 up, thanks for waiting. Retelling the events, hour by hour, leading to Kenshin's answer. Canon pairings, midJinchuu arc.
1. introduction

Hello. This is EK, setting the stage for the long fic that will hopefully keep her sane during the insanity of second year med school. Let me warn you that my production rate will not be fast. If anything, it will be slower than the production rate for Taming a Tiger (one new chapter every month or two months at the bad stage). But I have to write something that isn't school-related if I want to stay sane.  
  
The concept is roughly, and quite inaccurately, based on the TV series 24, the one with Keifer Sutherland. I like the concept, but the execution in the series annoyed me somewhere in the middle of the first season, and so I didn't follow all of the 24 hours. ^^ So I guess you can expect 24 chapters out of me within the school year. Yes, I know I'm notorious for E/M, but for this set Misao stays safely with Aoshi. ^^ Feel free to comment, ok?  
  
I chose the contents of volume 24-25. I didn't choose, say, volumes 15-18 or volumes 27-28, because I'm pretty lousy describing battle techniques, and there's too much happening for me to accurately describe (vol. 17 occurs in 30 minutes only!). Also, the events in vols. 24-25 allow for enough artistic license. Where appropriate, manga translations by maigo- chan were used.  
  
..................................  
  
--5:00pm  
  
"'Sao............" Yahiko grumbled, as he dragged his sandals, "I can't..........do this..........anymore............."  
  
"Tell me about it............." Misao grumbled beside him.  
  
"Three days we've been at this, searching high and low, finding clues.........."  
  
"And we're nowhere close to getting at Enishi................"  
  
"Nowhere close." Yahiko made a small sniffle.  
  
Then they both grew silent, as they continued their trudge home to the.............Kamiya dojo. They were thinking the same thought.  
  
Kenshin.  
  
They were doing this for Kenshin. But they were getting nowhere close to finding Enishi, so they can find Kaoru. And bring her back to Kenshin. To prove to him that Kaoru was alive, and that there was nothing.............nothing..............to...........worry about...............anymore.  
  
They had known for three days already. Misao's Aoshi-sama proved without doubt that the corpse they buried was not of a human being, and was not Kamiya Kaoru. Kaoru was alive, somewhere, if only they could find out where. But they could not tell the shell of a man they call Kenshin, not just yet. If they did, especially without having Kaoru with them, their Kenshin would still not return. He would never be that cheerful and dependable friend they had grown to love, never again. He would just blame himself for letting all of this happen in the first place, not being able to protect Kaoru the way he wanted to. He would blame himself for opening up to other people. If he does not die in Rakuninmura, he would die inside, taking Rakuninmura with him in his heart, and he will leave them for good.  
  
But even when Kenshin did find himself, and know his answers, wouldn't it ultimately better to give back Kaoru to him, alive? Wouldn't it be better to show him that he need not regret protecting her?  
  
So they had to find Kaoru, they had to find her. Half of the answer lay in Kenshin himself. The other half rested in their hands.  
  
Of that half, Aoshi, Megumi and Saitou chose the paper and underground trail. The grown-ups allowed Misao and Yahiko to take the high trail. As the grownups played the spy networks and connections, the kids combed the Arakawa docks for whatever information they could find.  
  
The third day of their searching had just ended. And they were all nowhere close to finding Yukishiro Enishi.  
  
As Misao and Yahiko reached the gates of the dojo, Yahiko sighed. He looked straight on, blankly, at the gaping hole in the middle of the practice area. It was still there, a grisly reminder of the terrible fight that occurred within and outside its walls. The fight, that ultimately took away Kenshin's will to live.  
  
"I wanna quit, Misao," Yahiko continued. "We've failed. We're never going to get anywhere! We'll never get Kaoru back."  
  
She bonked him on the head.  
  
"Look who's talking about quitting. And you're the one who wants Kenshin to come back the most."  
  
Yahiko sighed again. "Yeah.........I know............still................"  
  
"I know, I know." She suddenly tugged at her braid. "EYAAAGH! Why can't we get any leads?!"  
  
It was then that they both noticed the old man seated at the dojo's porch, just in front of the hole in the wall. The old man saw them as well, smiled and waved.  
  
"Oibore!" Misao called out as they entered the dojo.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Yahiko asked with a raised eyebrow. The geezer from Rakuninmura was harmless, but he was rather weird, too, with his tattered clothes, long, white beard, and the broken glasses on his nose.  
  
"Weekly begging rounds," Oibore explained with a grin, then held out his hand. "Care to give me something?"  
  
"Thought so," Misao sighed. "Well, let's see.........you want dinner?"  
  
The old man put his hands together and bowed profusely. "Thank you, thank you!"  
  
"Thanks, 'Sao," Yahiko added, as he took out his shinai from the back. "I'll just be here if you need my help about dinner." He raised the wooden sword over his head and took the preparatory stance.  
  
"Oh, sword practice!" Oibore smiled at the boy.  
  
Yahiko nodded. "If you don't do it everyday, you'll never be good........"  
  
".........and a samurai must be strong," Oibore finished, to Yahiko's surprise. The boy looked at the old man, wondering why he knew that.  
  
"Oibore............were you a samurai?" Yahiko had to know.  
  
The old man looked at the boy for a few crucial seconds. The boy reminded him of painful memories. It must have been Yahiko's unruly hair, for Yahiko noted that it was his head Oibore looked at the longest time. He sighed and nodded. "Yes, I was. But I was weak.........." He looked at Misao as well, who had not left yet to make dinner, then back at Yahiko. "I lost my daughter, and my son........so here I am."  
  
That's right, Oibore mused to himself. The girl is now roughly her age, when she left. The boy is his age, too, give or take a year..........  
  
"Hmmmm..........I guess a lot happened to you," Misao sympathized. She closed her eyes, and assumed the look of a martyr. "Alright. From now on, you may think of me as my daughter."  
  
But Oibore laughed at the young ninja. "Oh, I could never do that! My daughter was a thousand times prettier than you!"  
  
"Why you ingrateful---------" and Misao rained kunai on Oibore's hat, then she stomped off to make dinner.  
  
The old man only shrugged and sighed. "Well, if you live long enough, you lose a lot. Just as long as you don't throw them away. Whatever you leave, you'll find again, but what you throw away, you never get back."  
  
Yahiko was about to dismiss all of the words as an old man's rigmarole, but the next few words made him look intently at Oibore: "I know he's lost things, but he hasn't yet taken the step in throwing them away."  
  
He? Who did Oibore mean by "he"? Yahiko wondered. Kenshin? And if Kenshin, what did this geezer know about him?  
  
Suddenly Oibore brightened up. "Sorry about that, young'un," he interrupted Yahiko's thoughts. "You better start doing those drills. Don't bother about me!"  
  
--5:30pm  
  
First, a man sat beside a small pile of sticks. He took two flintstones and started a small fire. He blew on the sticks, and added more. Then he placed a stewpot above it. He filled the pot with water, then waited for the water to boil. He placed bits of meat in the pot, and stirred. The onions went inside the pot. He took out a cabbage, peeled it, and dropped leaves into the pot. A few more other vegetables went into the stew.  
  
Another man, ragged and dirty arrived, carrying two jugs of sake. Then another man, with another jug and several wooden cups. Yet another arrived, carrying bowls. More and more men came and encircled the stewpot, eagerly savoring the smells coming from the pot.  
  
This was dinner, at the Rakuninmura.  
  
Soon the pot was surrounded by around twenty men, bowls and chopsticks ready. A motley crew they were. Fat and skinny, muscular and sickly. All forlorn and all ragged. Many were now laughing empty laughs, as they told of their adventures for the day. Some were quietly waiting for dinner, the sadness of many years on their faces.  
  
Overhead, a few little birds were disturbed by the noise of the men, and were circling the area.  
  
Chopsticks dipped into the pot, and soon the men were eating. "Man, this is good!" one complimented, eating with relish.  
  
"It's these stews every month that keep me going," another piped in.  
  
"Plenty for everybody," the cook moderated the chopsticks that dove in. "Let everyone have a share!"  
  
"Yeah, the new guy hasn't taken his share!" the first man said.  
  
This made the men all look at their new arrival into Rakuninmura. A tattered young man with unusual red hair and a chained-up sword. So far the man had rarely moved from his place at the wall. His head was buried in his arm and knee. He had not spoken to anyone within the ragtag community yet.  
  
"Hey, how long has he been here?" a regular wayfarer asked the residents in a whisper.  
  
"About a week," one answered. "And he just stays there."  
  
One of the kinder but muscular men called out, "What about you, new guy? Come have some dinner!"  
  
"Isn't it about time you had a drink with us?" another added.  
  
The new man did not respond.  
  
I hear you. He answered in his head. No, thank you. I do not feel like eating. Do not worry about me. I am not worth the trouble. I am not worth it. I do not want anyone worrying about me. I do not want to worry about anyone, anymore. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me, like she did. Like she did.  
  
Only one thought ran constantly in his head. He was not able to protect her. She whom he wanted to protect the most.  
  
A stronger man would have just jumped from a bridge or rammed a sword into his belly. Not him. He no longer had strength in himself to do even that. Life was nothing to him. Death was neither welcome nor avoided. He was too tired. Too tired of walking or moving. Too tired of just being.  
  
Too tired...........must just sleep, sleep out the tiredness.  
  
But sleep brought no relief. It was full of nightmares of the past. He did not know which was better. To relive the awful past, or to face the recent past head-on. Neither was right. And it was too tiring to think about it. He sought that specific state. Asleep enough to be freed from the present. Not asleep enough to be filled with dreams of the past. It was hard to find, that specific state. It was tiring to find...........just tiring.............tiring even to answer the man about eating dinner.............must.............must sleep.............  
  
"He's completely helpless," one of the men grumbled.  
  
The wanderer agreed with him.  
  
"That samurai hasn't eaten a thing since he got here..........I wonder if he's okay," the grumbling man continued.  
  
The birds circling around the pot fluttered closer to the new man leaned by the wall.  
  
"Those are Oibore's birds, aren't they?" the men asked Kuma, the one who talked the most often to the old geezer. Kuma motioned in the affirmative.  
  
"Oibore's not here!" a man told the birds overhead.  
  
That did not stop the little brown songbirds from hovering around the forlorn redhaired man.  
  
"Strange....." the men around the stewpot commented. "Those birdies only come close to Oibore!"  
  
"Maybe they think he's a corpse!" one piped up. "He'll be a corpse soon enough!"  
  
"Dummy! It's crows that flock around corpses, not songbirds!" Kuma puffed at the man. "Still," he mused half-aloud, as one of the birds alighted on the man's chained sword, "there's lots of things strange about that new guy. First, those kids from the outside, now the birds that never got used to us.........."  
  
Kuma recalled something Oibore told the girl and the little boy with her, when they visited the new man. Animals will not come near someone with a bad heart. Did that mean that this man was good inside?  
  
As the rest of the company ignored the motionless stranger, Kuma kept looking at him. The poor man was in a torture chamber of his making. He truly pitied him, and wondered what trauma could have made him so.  
  
He heard the man cough faintly, and breathe short breaths. He had to do something, even a little something.  
  
"You," he pointed at the man currently nearest the stewpot. "fill a bowl with what's left."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Just do what I said!"  
  
"Alright!" the man hastily picked out vegetables from the pot.  
  
"You, big guy!" he pointed to another, finishing off a jug of sake. "Pour me a cup, will ya?"  
  
"Now?" the large man looked at him incredulously.  
  
"Now!"  
  
Receiving soup bowl and sake cup from the men, Kuma walked toward the man at the wall. He placed bowl and cup beside him, then tapped him at the shoulder.  
  
"You better eat up, Red," he told him. "Oibore's taken a liking to you. We won't hear the end of it if we just let you die on us. So I suggest you eat."  
  
"Not............hungry.............." the redhaired man muttered.  
  
"I don't care if you don't feel like it," Kuma shouted back. "You WILL eat this." Then he lowered his voice. "Please?"  
  
The man did not answer.  
  
Kuma sighed, and muttered to himself. "I tried, Oibore............I tried."  
  
--5:45pm  
  
"WHAT do you think you're doing, woman?"  
  
"Dinner. You have a problem with that?"  
  
The woman was chopping vegetables too many for one person to consume. From a small pot, the smell of rice cooking filled the kitchen.  
  
"Stop being nice, woman----"  
  
"The name's Kaoru, Kamiya Kaoru............I've told you several times!"  
  
"Being nice to me will not get you anywhere. You still can't get off this island."  
  
"Yes, you've told me: sharks in the ocean, 20 kilometers to nearest port, natural prison. Yes, you've told me. But I can't practice my strokes here, since I have no sword. I have nothing to do. And as I have told you, if I have to cook, I might as well cook for two people. Now, kindly wait. I'll have dinner ready in a few minutes."  
  
"Death of poisoning by Battousai's woman.............a worse fate than losing to Battousai."  
  
Kaoru threw a wooden bowl at Enishi.  
  
..........................  
  
Sometime in his life, Watsuki had been there. He had been depressed. Maybe not to the extent Kenshin had, but he has been there, to portray it so well.  
  
I hope you liked this, and I hope you continue to read! ^_^ 


	2. dinners

Hello. Some things got together, to create this chapter after a whole year hiatus. Someone read and reviewed today. My iPod could not be recognized as a USB storage device; thus, running chapters for the GB fic and the Yahiko/Tsubame/Soujirou fic I had in it could not be retrieved over the weekend. I was bored out of my mind. I didn't want to research for a case.

Thank you to those who read and/or reviewed the first chapter of Hours to Renewal over the last year. Thank you for believing in the concept. I am sorry for the long hiatus. I offer no explanation or excuse. Quotations taken from maigo-chan's translations of RK volume 24. Everything else is from cues in the manga illustrations and my crazy head.

……………………

6:00pm

Kaoru panicked as the frying oil sizzled too much under the fish, and the miso boiled too fast. She quickly covered the wok and placed it off the fire, and did the same with the miso. She checked under the lids. Both looked fine; she sighed with relief. She did not bother to taste the result of her cooking in her nervous state. She wanted to eat dinner, and hopefully in the process also feed the other person in the house who obviously knew even less than her about cooking. She took out the two pieces of fish and placed it onto two plates. She then ladled out two bowls of miso.

He might be crazy, he might have tormented Kenshin, he might have strangled her, but he was still a human being. He needed to eat. Munching on raw carrots and apples was NOT what she considered eating.

There was a point to all this, all this unusual kindness from her, she promised herself in her head.

She placed the fish, miso, a bowl of rice, and her uneven chops of radish onto a tray. She raised her nose, took a deep breath, and marched onto the balcony, where Enishi looked out at the sea. She lowered the tray to the small table without ceremony.

He heard the clatter of porcelain, and looked at her. "What are you doing?"

The man was exasperating, she was convinced. He had already seen him cooking in the kitchen, and she had already explained what she was doing. She just had to rub it in, she supposed. "Nothing. Only, if you're cooking for one, you might as well cook for two. You've barely eaten anything since you've been here. I know no one's using the kitchen but me. So eat up!"

He looked at the small meal, and did not know what to make of it. Any poison he had in the resthouse was locked up in a safe, so the woman could not do that.

She was still annoyed at him, though. She turned her back on him, and walked to the sliding glass doors. "You can wash your own dishes!"

She slowly walked back to the kitchen.

"I've thought about it for three days – the weakness I saw in him – If I attack the scars on his heart, it could make my sudden escape easier than I thought……But this doesn't change the fact that his Earthly Justice was a cruel trick on Kenshin……I don't like this." She sighed. "I'm too nice."

Back on the balcony, Enishi peered at the tray. He opened the soup bowl, and looked at the miso inside. He remembered his sister, hovering over a soup pot. She saw him come in from playing outside, and she smiled. "You must be hungry. Wait a minute, I was just making dinner……"

It's a shame I'll never get to taste your miso again, nee-san. He mused.

With the hand that was not in a sling, he took up the bowl of miso. One sip of the miso confirmed it. Battousai's woman could NOT cook. "It tastes bad……" He washed it out with a glass of wine.

But the fish, while overcooked, was edible. This he did eat. The woman was right to a degree. He had not eaten for some time. If the woman was a firebrand, at least she was not too vicious. Despite trying to strangle her to death, not to mention keeping her confined to the house, she still chose to give him some food. A strong woman, that one.

Yet he still could not understand why his brother-in-law chose her to replace his sister. She was Tomoe's polar opposite.

……………………….

6: 15pm

Misao was shocked. Even Sanosuke did not eat that fast. The rice was gone faster than she could place it onto the old man's bowl, faster than she could say, "Greedy geezer……" Yahiko himself was surprised at how quickly the old man could eat.

After ten minutes of silent and hasty munching, Oibore lowered the chopsticks, and bowed to them. He then took up his dusty straw hat and placed it on his head. He waved to Misao and Yahiko before he disappeared past the gate of the dojo. "That was quite a meal. I'll come by next time I'm this way."

"Don't come back, you bum!" Misao shouted back to him.

Yahiko, though, wondered. "……..Who is he, really?"

Misao shrugged. She then looked up at the darkening sky. She grinned. Usually Aoshi-sama liked this time to have evening tea. Come to think of it………."Wait…….Aoshi-sama never came home!"

Yahiko groaned. "You're whining again. You really have been whining all day."

"YOU'VE been grumbling all day, too! Stop acting like a parent!"

Yahiko walked out to the front of the house, and started the sword drill again.

"Boy, you're really bent on learning that technique, aren't you?" Misao commended.

"You have your Aoshi-sama to keep you going," he said with a downward swipe. "I have this. Someday, I'll be able to use this. I'll make Kenshin and Kaoru proud of me."

Misao smiled with understanding.

……………………

6:30pm

He heard the men chatter and banter over dinner. Some voices were raised, as one bragged about a robbery, another half-drunk man drawled about an old fling, and another complained about the government. A few rounds of laughs rang through the group.

Shut up, please. Keep quiet. I want to sleep already. Keep quiet. You only remind me of them……..

Memories of the dojo resurfaced. Memories of those happy nights when they would gather around a large lacquer box and a pot full of rice. Sanosuke, Yahiko, Megumi, Gensai-sensei. They would all be there. Laughter would fill the air as jokes and taunts were exchanged. She would be there, too, sitting beside him. Her ponytail would bob as she tried to get him to say ah, and she popped in a piece of sashimi.

Those days were over.

He opened his eyes for a few moments. He saw the bowl in front of him and the wooden cup.

_There you go again, Kenshin. Going without dinner, after going without lunch. Come on, you HAVE to eat up. _

Her voice. Her concerned face in front of him. Her worried smile. He took up the bowl and sipped at the cold soup inside.

_Megumi cooked that, you silly redhead, so stop checking. You're no better than Sano and Yahiko, hmph! _

He held the bowl to his mouth with both hands, and took in all the contents in a succession of sips. He lowered the bowl. That was enough.

_You're kidding, Kenshin. You HAVE to eat more than that!_

No more. Not hungry.

_Some sake, then? It's a cold night, it'll help warm you up. Not too much, of course! _

He sighed. Sometimes the woman could be quite pushy. He slowly took up the sake cup, and drank it. She was right. It did help to warm him up somehow.

The sake also made him feel dizzy……..and sleepy again. It made him realize the pointlessness of talking to the memories of a woman already dead.

He felt a cold breeze pass through his face, and saw the darkness surrounding him. It was evening already. How many hours already? No matter. The last time, he figured, it was about noon. He was barely aware of the hot sun, then being drowsy for the longest time. He had been in that perfect state for some time, to his relief. Neither fully asleep nor awake. He was barely aware of someone asking him if he wanted to eat, but he refused, then he dozed off again for a few minutes. Then the men started such a racket.

He knew he had just been there, that perfect state, but already he wanted to go back. He wanted to forget about her. She would never come back. She would never come back. She……….would never………come……………back………..

He returned to the blank darkness.

But he was not so lucky this time. Because this time, he saw her.

"Tomoe."

……………………

6:45pm

"Oh, you're back, Oibore," Kuma greeted as the old man passed by him. "Dinner?"

"Thanks, but the kids from the other day fed me," he grinned back.

"Lucky dog."

The other regulars of the village of outcasts had clumped into little groups around small fires. Some laughed sadly as jokes were told and stories related. Others stood quietly around a bonfire, rubbing their hands and blowing on them.

The old man got closer to where the redhead sat. He pointed to the redhead with his thumb, and looked back at Kuma. The other man tossed his head back in the direction of the redhead.

The new guy was asleep again – at least, his eyes were shut yet again. His hold on the sword had loosened but it had not fallen. In a style unique to him, his head did not bob. In front of him, a soup bowl and a wooden cup were empty.

"That's all he's eaten, all day," Kuma tsked. "He's wasting away faster than everyone else. And we can't do anything."

Indeed. The young man was already wiry when he first appeared at Rakuninmura. He was very pale and sallow now, and seemed weaker than before.

"We'll keep doing what we can, until he talks to us," Oibore patted Kuma on the shoulder.

The two men began to walk away, when they heard something from behind them.

"Tomoe."

The old man and the younger man looked at each other. "You say something?" Kuma asked. The old man shook his head.

"Tomoe."

This made Oibore suddenly whip his head to the redhaired man behind them. His head and back leaned further onto the wall, and the arm that was not holding the sword, dropped to the ground.

"So you know her, too, my redhaired friend?" Oibore whispered.

"What didya say, Oibore?" Kuma asked.

The old man rubbed his beard for a few moments, then held the other man on the shoulder. "I gotta go on the begging rounds again tonight, my friend. Keep an eye on him, alright?"

"Sure thing, you old geezer," Kuma chuckled. "You plan to get something for Red?"

"Maybe."

…………………………

I cannot promise when the next chapter will be. I do have 2 other stories running, and I have an insane school life that ruins imagination. Furthermore, there is a long time lapse between the contents of this chapter and the time Aoshi meets Gein, so I will have to think over what happens in the next few hours. But I promise to finish this story, within this lifetime. I want to finish it. Place me on Story Alert if you want to keep track of it. Thank you for reading.


	3. conversations

Hiya. This is EK, back from the dead. A few things first. 1. Yes, it's been two years, I know. The lapse is partly because of not having ideas, and being whipped down in chapter 2 for mis-characterization. 2. I will now finish this story within the coming weeks and months. The timeframe has been plotted out, more or less. This won't be my best work, very likely, but I will finish. 3. To imitate the overly dramatic Ice Blue Eyes, this will be my final work for the RK section, very likely. But no goodbyes yet. I still have 21 chapters to make. Here we go. Completed in 2 hours after 2 years. Hehe.

…………………………….

7:00pm

Cleaning up after dinner, Misao had lost track of Yahiko's swings, even if Yahiko was calling out the numbers rather loudly. As she washed the bowls, she kept thinking: where was he, again? Where was Aoshi-sama?

Sure, he was okashira. Sure, his whole being was now focused on Himura's case. Sure, he was busy. But, still, it wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that he wasn't telling her anything. It wasn't fair that he was not letting her help him, the way she wanted to help him. It wasn't fair that she was stuck at home guessing at Aoshi-sama's whereabouts, instead of being beside Aoshi-sama!

"It's JUST NOT FAIR!"

Yahiko stopped in mid-swing. "Misao? You alright?"

She sniffed and rubbed her nose. "Yeah. I'm fine. Are you done? It's getting chilly."

"Ninety-nine…a hundred. Yup, I'm done for the day."

Yahiko slung his shinai over a shoulder and walked into the kitchen. He found Misao looking down at the washwater, and sighing.

"He knows what he's doing, Misao. Alright?"

"I know. And I do trust him. It's just…"

"Annoying that all we can really do is wait."

"Yeah."

"Come on, Misao. We've a long day tomorrow. Let's get the futons out."

Misao faced him and smiled. "You go on ahead. You have to be at the Akabeko tomorrow, too. I wanna wait for Aoshi-sama for a few hours more. He might just come home in a while."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He yawned, and trudged toward the bedrooms.

……………………

7:30pm

Tomoe.

Go…away…Tomoe. You…don't want to see me like this. Please. Not like this.

He faintly pleaded with the vague image clothed in white, just in front of him. The image stood there, silent, uncondemning, but also unmoving.

Go. Away. Please. Have…to sleep. Again. Let. Me sleep. Go away.

The figure came closer, instead. She kneeled in front of him. Did not wait for him to look up. She placed a windy hand on one cheek, then the other.

The breeze only made him sadder…dizzier…tired-er…drowsier…sleepier…

No. Tomoe. Failed you. Failed her. No. Go away. Please.

She stood once more in front of him.

Please. Go…Go.

She remained.

No? Take…your dagger, then. Drive it through. Me. Like so. Let…me be…with you.

She remained silent.

Too tired to…ask you…again. So, just go.

She let a tear fall down her misty face.

Go…now…too tired…want to…be with you…want to sleep…and no longer wake…just to keep on…sleeping…and be with you…and just sl…

She left.

……………………

7:45pm

"Tomoe."

The old man had not heard that name for many years. Not from another person, at least. That it came from the redhaired newcomer…made him think. Made him curious.

Must be a coincidence. Must be another woman, another Tomoe.

Still. His daughter had been hastily married to a young swordsman, so the rumors said. This man who knew a Tomoe was a swordsman. The likelihood was still rather weak, though.

But Oibore was a man who had learned to trust his gut.

He had reached the night market. The part of the city that came alive as the lamps were lit. Vegetables were hawked. Noodles were boiled. Dumplings were sizzling. Women were calling.

But he was not interested in the food shops. He trundled on toward a little shop near the end of the market.

He eventually found the one he was looking for, a small stall, where the owner had lined a set of clear bottles filled with liquids of various colors. He smiled at the owner.

The stall owner tightened his grip on his purse. "I have no spare change for beggars," the man said.

The old man looked down at his poor, ragged, smelly clothes. "Ah," Oibore flashed another toothy grin, "but I intend to buy from you. Well, eventually." He glanced around the perfume bottles. "Do you have white plum scent tonight?"

"And if I do?"

"How much for a small bottle, my kind friend?"

"More than you probably have, old man."

"I'm still asking how much, kind sir."

"If you must know, one silver piece for one small bottle of white plum."

Oibore smiled again, as he took out his canvas bag of coins. He peeked in, and found a few copper coins. He showed these to the owner, who shook his head. "I'll need more than that, old man."

"And you'll have it…eventually." Oibore grinned at the owner, and strolled away.

Then he frowned. It would be a very lucky evening, or a very generous man, for him to get a silver piece.

He walked past a little shrine along the path, and stepped back in front of it. He took out one of his few copper coins and gave it to the image inside it. He clapped his hands together, closed his eyes, and prayed.

"Dear powerful small one. I'd like to help young Red. He's a new guy, where I live. I think he may know something about my children. Even if he didn't, I'd like to help him out. But I'm a little short on coins right now. I need a silver piece to get my girl's favorite scent. They say it works wonders to heal hearts. I'd like to heal Red's heart, even a little. So, see? My intentions are good, small powerful one. Please? One silver piece tonight."

He clapped his hands together once more. "Thank you, small powerful one."

He began what he set out to do, tapping at people's shoulders, calling to who might hear.

"Coins for a poor old man? Care to part with a few spare coins?"

Spare a few coins for a young man I don't want to see die before my eyes?

……………………………

From here on we'll be leaving the poor redhead to his fractured dreams, and I'll be focusing on everyone else for a while. For what it's worth. Please forgive the shortness of this chapter. Still getting gears back.

No review replies, not after a two-year interval. But I do thank the people who reviewed, and I thank Nekotsuki for still remembering this story after so long. Send in your comments and suggestions for the story, okay? See ya around, hopefully in the very near future.


	4. healer

Hiya. Still here. Back with another chapter, dreamed up while retracting during several appendectomies and one long internal fixation (Don't understand? Don't bother.). Some time in the middle of brainless retracting during one appendectomy, I realized that we don't hear from Megumi for quite a long while. This chapter is the result. Completed while watching Justin Timberlake's New York concert. He's quite a performer and a talent, hehe. Again, this chapter, and the ones after it, are just conjecture and piecing things together, 24-style. Agh, Aoshi sounds too much like Kyuzo. I've been away for too long. Enough random ranting. Here we go.

………………………….

8:00pm

All the instruments were locked away. All the papers were arranged and stored. All the patients were gone. Sensei had said his goodbyes and had left fifteen minutes ahead of her, with instructions to lock the main door and to sleep well. Finally, it was the end of a long day. She was finally going home.

She sighed as she locked the entry door of the Oguni clinic. I'm still here, doing my job, helping others, like you want me to, Ken-san. You're the reason why I keep going to work, when I no longer want to. Come back to us, Ken-san. Please.

As she gave the final tug on the lock, she noticed a darker shadow than usual in the shadows. The shadow had a face.

"Shinomori-san," she bowed her head in greeting.

"Misao?" he asked.

"She didn't pass by here. She must've gone back to the dojo already with Yahiko."

"Thank you." He turned to leave.

"Shinomori-san?"

He paused, and faced her again.

"You have that terrible look to you again," she grinned. He had a battle face on him, steely and determined. "What are you planning to do tonight, if I may ask?"

"To find some real answers. To end the deadlock."

To ask about mission details would be pointless, she realized. To ask why Misao was not taken along would also yield no answers. So, she wished his safety, instead. "Take care of yourself, then. Don't get yourself killed, you hear me?"

"Ah."

He gave a very slight nod, and went on his way.

I mean it. She smiled slightly. Misao will cry buckets if you don't come back.

Megumi made her way to the night market for some sake. Since the nightmare started, she found it hard to sleep.

……………………………………

8:30pm

"Oh, well, what the hell…oh, well, what the hell…Coins, please? Spare a coin or two for an old man?...Oh, well, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, oh, well! Coins for an old man, please?"

Oh, well. He had just started, anyway. He figured that he should not be complaining that half an hour had passed without anyone giving him anything. He still had two more hours before the bustle of the night would begin to die down.

He stopped at a ramen stall, and savored the smells of the noodles he had no money to buy. He tapped on the shoulder of a beautiful, if tired, lady at one end of the bench. "A few coins for an old man?" He asked. But she did not seem to hear, so he tapped her on the shoulder again. "You seem to be a kind soul, dear lady. A few coins for an old man, please?"

She finally noticed him, and looked at him. She was indeed striking to look at. A little like his grown-up daughter, back then. You could not take your eyes off her, once you looked at her.

He was right about her. She took out her purse and retrieved two copper coins. "Here." She faced the stall owner now, and asked for some sake.

"Thank you, kind lady," Oibore bowed. He placed the coins into his bag.

It must have been the smell of his clothes that made the lady look at him again. "Wait, Grandfather."

"Eh?"

"Sorry for being blunt. But are you from the outcast village?"

"Rakuninmura? Yes, dear lady, for the time being I live there." He began to walk away again.

"Wait, please wait, Grandfather."

"Yes?"

"Himura Kenshin. Have you heard of a Himura Kenshin there? Please!"

He shook his head. "It's useless to ask for names among outcasts. They will give any name they would rather be known for."

"Long red hair? A cross-shaped scar across one cheek? A swordsman?"

Now Oibore suddenly turned to look at the woman. "Red? Indeed? You know the redhaired swordsman?"

The woman also took a better look at him. "Please tell me Ken-san is alive."

Oibore smiled, sadly. "Yes, Red is alive."

Relief spread over the lady's face. "The gods be praised. Is he well?"

"No, not well. Always sighing or sleeping, but not eating."

The lady sighed. She faced the stall owner. "Another sake bottle, please."

Oibore leaned on the post, near the woman. He asked quietly. "You said his name was?"

"Himura Kenshin." The sake bottle was placed in front of her.

"May I ask what happened?"

"It's hard to explain in a few words, but I will try. Kaoru, our friend, was kidnapped…but done in a way that we all thought she was killed. What he knows is that she was killed. He took it very hard." She poured out a cup of the sake.

"If this Kaoru was a close friend…"

"They were more than close," she looked down at her sake cup. "It took him ten years to forgive himself for seeing his wife die before his eyes, by his blade. Took him ten years to dare love anyone again. And now, this."

Oibore thought about the information for a while. Wife…died…blade…ten years?

Was it indeed him? So the "Tomoe" Red spoke of…was she indeed…

He asked. "This Himura…He was part of the revolutionary faction in the last war?"

"Yes, he said was Isshin shishi. Do you know him?"

Himura of the Isshin shishi.

It is he. Indeed.

He looked down, and bit his lip.

"I may have heard stories about him, many years ago, back during the war," he said to the lady. "But I did not know him personally."

"Same as everyone," she said. She drank her sake in one long drink.

Oibore thought again. Red was the Himura of the Isshin shishi? The Himura, the Kenshin, who his daughter wrote back home about? Was it indeed him? He knew he was not going to have his children back, but, after so many years, did he now have a link to that painful but cherished past?

"Melancholia." The lady spoke again.

His thoughts were interrupted. "Eh?"

"That's what the foreign-trained physicians call it, what he has," she sighed. "But east or west, there is nothing that we can do for it. There is no cure. People with the condition either die by their own hands…or they find their answer." She poured and filled the cup again. "But there is nothing we can do. There is nothing I can do."

"Surely, dear pretty lady, you are exaggerating…" Oibore tried to sympathize.

The lady emptied the cup before speaking again. "You can't even begin to know how much it hurts, to feel helpless, to do nothing. I know all of the plants and concoctions and treatments, and I still have nothing to save him from the pain in his heart. My whole being, heart and soul…I want to help, to cure, to heal. It's what I know to do, and only that. But I cannot do that for him, cannot help him, the one who gave my life back. I can only stand, watch, and wait. I don't even know what I'm waiting FOR."

Not knowing what to say, Oibore sat down comfortably near the lady.

"I don't want him to die. But I want his suffering to end. I cannot do anything for him. I can only help others, the way he wanted me to. But I cannot help HIM. Kami-sama, I want to help HIM!"

She looked down at her dress for several long minutes. She gripped two corners of the dress and held it inside two fists. Oibore saw that she was fighting to hold back tears she could not shed while sitting beside total strangers.

"I'm sorry for saying all that to you, Grandfather. You're probably not interested. I am sorry." She rubbed away the tears that formed at the sides of her eyes.

"No, no, dear lady," the old man hastened to reassure. "I had nothing better to do with my evening. It was good spending it, listening to you."

She took his grimy hand, and placed a coin inside. "Here, Grandfather. Thank you for telling me about Ken-san."

"What you told me was helpful, too." She probably had no idea how helpful she was. "May the gods bless you."

She smiled faintly. "Give Ken-san my regards. And if he falls sick of something I can deal with, find me at the Oguni clinic, any hour of the day. I will come running." She bowed low to him, and began to walk away, in her slow refined way.

The old man bowed back. "I will."

Oibore opened his palm. He blinked, and squinted through his broken glasses.

He now had a silver piece.

……………………………

The term depression began to be used with regularity only in the 20th century. Prior to that, people more or less knew what it was but called it melancholy. This is why I made Meg call it that, even if we all know that's what it was.

Thanks to everybody who reviewed, especially those of you who still know me from back then. See ya around.


	5. twinkle

Hiya. Still here. I'm finishing Hours to Renewal partly because I'm trying to get my guts to write original material. Thanks to the RK section and the encouragement and suggestions of many people over the years, I hope I now have my basic weapons of war in hand. Practical experience in story plotting, characterization, dialogue, description. I now want to try my hand in the bigger field. The literature in my country is starting to gain some steam, and it's becoming friendlier to the entrance of former fanfiction writers. I want to be part of that movement, in my little way.

Sorry this chapter isn't any longer. But here we go.

……………………………………..

9:00pm

The old man kept staring at his palm, while people walked beside him and past him.

A silver coin.

The last time he had a silver coin, it was…hmmm….three years ago. In Kyoto. Yes. He visited his girl there. Managed to beg enough coins to buy flowers to lay on her grave. After he came from there, some rich person gave him that silver coin.

He was ashamed of himself, but he bought himself as much sake as could be bought with that coin. He remembered letting his head fall onto the table after too many bottles had been emptied. His girl was no longer around to scold him. His boy was no longer around to cry or to stomp away. He was alone, and no one cared what he did with a silver coin.

Oh, well, what the hell.

He wanted to do that this time as well. Use the coin and forget about his life. But he stopped himself. No, not tonight.

Tonight, he would forget about himself. Tonight, and tomorrow, he would do something good for someone else.

For Red.

For Tomoe.

He trundled on, back to the perfume stall.

……………………………………

9:15pm

Megumi had reached home, tipsy but in control.

It was not exactly the sake that made her tipsy. It was that ray of hope that an old man had given her. He was alive. He was in a bad way, but he was still alive.

He had said it himself, after all. To live takes greater will than to die.

There was still hope.

The thought kept running in her head as she mechanically walked into her bedroom, took out the futon, laid out the futon.

There was still hope.

The sake took effect. She was getting dizzy, and mercifully sleepy. She drowsily changed into her bedclothes. She knew only so far as to throw the blanket over her as she lay onto the futon.

There was still hope.

Come back to us, Ken-san. Please, come back.

The exhaustion of the day took effect. She fell asleep.

…………………………………

9:30pm

"I'm back, kind sir," Oibore grinned as he stood in front of the boxes of perfume bottles.

"I'm still not giving you any free bottles, old man!" the stall owner snapped at him.

"Well, I'm paying you for it!" He held out the hand with the silver coin.

The stall owner raised an eyebrow and took the coin. The man looked at the coin up and down and around. "You sure this isn't counterfeit?"

"No, but it came from a pretty lady who looked honest enough," he replied.

The vendor bit the coin, weighed it in his hand, and was satisfied. "Fine. What did you say you wanted?"

"White plum."

The man reached out to a box filled with vials of clear liquid, and took out a bottle from the second row. He uncorked it for a moment to check, then handed the small bottle over to the older man. "White plum it is. And here's your change."

Oibore took the copper coins in one hand, and the small bottle in the other. "Thank you, kind sir."

"Just get outta here already, you're scaring away the other customers."

He walked away, thanking the small powerful one and the pretty lady that the gods had used.

………………………………..

9:45pm

"Still awake?"

"Still early, woman. Why is it your problem? And why are you still awake?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"That could be arranged…"

"NO, thank you."

Enishi gazed far into the coastline, stared deep into the darkness. His head stopped turning when he focused on the right end of his line of sight. "Ah, at last."

"What?" Kaoru asked.

He pointed to a twinkling in the distance. "Look."

Kaoru did look, but did not know what she was looking at. The twinkling came from one end of the visible coastline of the mainland. It changed in timing, as far as she could tell.

The twinkling continued for several more minutes. Kaoru did notice that the twinkling followed a certain pattern, twink-twink-twinkle…twink…twinkle-twinkle…even if she could not tell what the pattern was very well.

"Morse code, woman." He smiled.

The term was familiar, either from Misao, or maybe it was Saitou, or was it Sanosuke, or was it…Kenshin…In any case, she knew that telegraph machines used it, and that it was used to relay messages.

The twinkling ended. His mouth was in a straight line afterward. He raised the well hand onto his chin.

"Well?" Kaoru finally broke the silence.

He took off his tinted glasses, and looked at the table beside him. "I say, he has quite a stamina, that Battousai," he said.

"Kenshin! What about him? What about him?" Kaoru almost pulled off one of his sleeves. "Please tell me!"

"Why should I? You're just a hostage."

The man did have a point. She took her hands off his sleeve, and sighed.

"But what the hell is taking him so long?" The man poured himself out a full glass of the wine on the table.

Kaoru understood now, what the message was. Kenshin was still alive. He was still alive. It made her just a little bit braver. "You can't kill a man like him so easily."

Enishi emptied the glass, and looked down at his bandaged arm, still healing. "I'm in no hurry."

……………………………….

9:50pm

He clutched the precious little bottle firmly in one hand. He gently uncorked it for a while, and savored the scent. It brought him back to happier memories of a loving family, of a wife who first used that sweet scent, and of a daughter who used it afterward.

"Wonder if Red felt like I did, too, once…"

He was still not completely sure about what he thought he knew about Red. He shrugged. Oh, well. If he was wrong, at least he had tried to help. If he was right, he did not know what would happen, but at least he had tried to help.

He felt the happiness of someone about to do some goodness in the world. He had not felt it for a while, and it was a wonderful feeling to have, after feeling either false happiness or true despair.

He had not noticed the commotion coming from one Chinese restaurant until too late. People suddenly came rushing out of the decent-sized noodle shop, from all directions. Some were swearing in Japanese, others were screaming in Chinese. One person even bumped into him, before running off to the end of the block.

"Wha? What's going on?"

"Police raid!" someone managed to blurt out.

Several people in blue charged into the front of the restaurant. "We have you surrounded!"

Without warning, a man in blue took his arm and wrenched it behind him. "My bottle!" Oibore managed to exclaim, as he quickly stuffed the bottle into his little canvas bag. "Please don't break!"

Several other men all around him were also being held by one arm each by men in blue. All the men were screaming and shouting. An outrage! I'm innocent! What's going on?

The old man found it rather odd that he was no longer affected by the succeeding words, from the policeman beside him:

"You are all under arrest."

………………………………………………

I wouldn't be surprised if Enishi had some sort of semi-hi-tech-for-his-time surveillance setup to communicate with the mainland. Especially judging from the way that he can't completely trust his underlings.

Thanks for still reading. Again, sorry for the short read. Kinda out of sorts this week, which is weird because people are nice to me in the surgery department. I guess the work is taking its toll so early, so I feel like going dead every time I get the chance. Sorry for ranting. So far I'm glad that none of you are complaining that I'm not getting it right. See you all in the next chapter.


	6. son

Hiya. Sorry for the delay again. But you guys are used to this stop-start story. Finished the Busou Renkin anime. Story planning and concept execution (while more insane and outrageous) is much better than even in RK, but the characters are not as memorable. Finally, coming from one of the countries where RK is indeed called Samurai X, the Hayasaka sword was hilarious. 

Answers to questions. 

1. By my estimation of the events as given, Kenshin spent a week in Rakuninmura, give or take. That takes into consideration that: "burial" preparations was done the day after the "murder", the "burial" was done 2 days after the event (and Kenshin is found), Misao and Aoshi arrived on the 3rd day, the midnight grave excavation happened on the 4th day, then Misao and Yahiko spent 3 days going up and down Arakawa. 

2. I figured that if Shishio already had a telegraph machine, Morse code was already in good use in the 1890s (roughly the RK timeline). 

3. Involvement in a police raid is the only reason I can think of for Oibore to stay out to trouble for a whole night, and not return to Rakuninmura that same night. 

Oh, yeah. I like this series, I think you can tell. I gave a good number of years of my life to it, none of which I regret. But after this story is done, I probably am moving on to other things. 

Here we go. 

………………………………….

10:00pm 

The evening's round of stories, songs, and sake was coming to a close. The regular residents of the outcast village said their goodnights to comrades and drinking buddies. The feeble-minded and the severely drunk among them were being pulled away to warmer areas. They were all trudging on to rundown shacks or small tents. 

Except one. 

Only Kuma had noticed that their redhaired newcomer was still leaned on the wall of one of the larger shacks, instead of being inside it. He peered well at the shadows, and saw a dusty white hakama. 

"What? He's still there?" 

He marched to his own shack, several meters away, and grabbed the nearest serviceable blanket. Never mind that it was full of moth holes. Better than nothing. He stomped back to the square, stopping in front of the redhaired newcomer again. He threw the blanket at the redhead. 

"I'm just doing this for the ol' geezer, alright?" He started to walk away, back to his shack. 

But as he looked behind him, he saw that the redhead had taken the hole-riddled blanket and wrapped himself in it. 

"Good." 

…………………………………

10:30pm

This had happened to him several times already in this lofty career as a beggar. It was nothing new. The best way to deal with it was to wait until it was over. He often got a clean, if rather cold, bed for the night. If he was lucky, he even got a free meal. He knew nothing, he said nothing worth anything to them. He would be out in the streets after a while. No big deal. 

He got out of the crammed horse-drawn dark carriage, and hobbled into the police precinct. 

The hall was now filled with a motley group of individuals: Chinese dignitaries swearing in their choppy language, customers angrily shouting at policemen, a Chinese restaurant manager trying to talk in Japanese, young women with young men, crying children carried by harried mothers. And Oibore, squatted by a wall, watching it all. Surrounding them were officers in blue, shouting above the noise, trying to keep the group quiet. 

One man, taller and more sullen than the rest, calmly walked in, a cigarette in hand. The officers stopped and saluted him. Indeed, Oibore had seen that man before, the inspector Fujita Goro. He came out when there was a big mission in the city that needed to be done. Otherwise, he came out when the people of lower rank were having problems. 

The inspector shook his head at the people assembled. "Bystanders, customers, women, even an old man," he muttered with a puff. "Fools." 

More than one member of the force could not repress it: "Beg your pardon, sir?" 

"What did you expect to accomplish?" He threw the cigarette onto the floor, squashed it down, mashed it well into the floor. "Much of his supplies are not even in Tokyo. Most are still at sea, in transit. What you did was kick up dust. Nothing else." 

They all sunk their heads. 

A man in a garish outfit, too many swords, and yellow hair now came in. He patted the head of the operation on the shoulder. "Us crooks, we like good eating, and that's all we do in a swell joint. It's only small deals that ever get hatched in them places. You reckon?" 

The inspector turned around and glared at the man. 

"Yeah, yeah." The yellow-haired caught up and tailed the inspector. 

The inspector now faced the other members of the force. "But, seeing that the deed has been done, make the most of it." He turned their backs on them. "Full report by sunrise." He walked away from them, as he lighted up another cigarette. 

The officers saluted, then sighed. They looked at the large group assembled, and groaned. They would have to ask all of these people about what they saw, and bear their indignation. 

"Let's begin." The chief pointed at Oibore. "The old man first." 

"Me?" But he did stand up and hobble up to the man who pointed him out. 

"Are you a regular at the restaurant?" 

"Nope." 

"Have you heard of or noted any suspicious activity in that restaurant?" 

"Besides what other of my kind would do for a free meal, nope." 

"What do you know about Wu Heishin?" 

"Nothing." He shrugged. 

"Is the name Yuen Ni Shi familiar to you?" 

"What do I know about Chinese people, sir?" He grinned. "Only that they wear stiff collars and braid their long hair." 

The policeman rolled his eyes. "Is the name Yukishiro Enishi familiar to you?" 

"Enishi?" 

The name was familiar, very familiar indeed. Still, it took a while for him to carefully think about why the name was familiar. 

He sighed, and spoke. "Well, I had a son with that name…but he's dead now. At least, I think he's dead. Maybe just after the war was over. I haven't heard from him or anything about him for more than ten years. So, yes, he's probably dead now. Oh, well. What the hell. What the hell. Such a good and loving boy he was, too. Loved his sister a lot…didn't want to be separated from her…even if he had to leave…me…But he was such a good boy, when he was really small. Had his mother's eyes…" 

The interrogator stopped him. "But, do you know Yukishiro Enishi?" 

Wasn't Yukishiro his own surname? It had been so long…he was no longer sure. Besides, his was not the only clan with that surname in the nation. 

So Oibore shook his head. "Sorry. Don't know him." 

"That will be all." 

"That's it? Can I go now?" 

"Well, yes." 

But something in him gnawed at his gut to find out more. 

"Would you indulge this old man who knows nothing?" Oibore asked. "What does this man look like? The man you are looking for?" 

"We've had some witness say that he had the bearing of an emperor. At least a powerful politician. You know the kind, right, old beggar?" 

Indeed, he did. He saw it every day. But…his little boy, alive, and an emperor? 

"And, why are you looking for this man? Just the simple details that an old man can know." 

"I can't tell you a lot, Grampa, but he's a big-time weapons smuggler. We're making sure he doesn't cause havoc here. That is all I can say." 

"Yes, that is sufficient for me to know," Oibore retained enough composure to reply. 

Yukishiro Enishi. Unthinkable, that he would be the same boy. The son of a down-on-luck father from a forgettable clan. The head of a crime organization. In another country, even! Impossible, unthinkable. 

It was unthinkable, that his son would live this long. That his son would rise, and gain power over people. Power he never had, not in war nor in peace.

Indeed. Why did he never even try to confirm it? What happened to Tomoe. Killed, someone told him. What happened to Enishi. Gone, someone told him. Dead? Maybe. But he never tried to find out if it was true. Why didn't he? 

He did not want to know. Yes, that was it. 

It was better, easier, to just throw life away, rather than find out for sure. His wife was dead. His daughter was dead. His son was probably dead. He had no property and no reputation to speak of. What else did he have to lose? Nothing. So he began to wander the land, begging along the way, watching the world around him change while he tried to never change with it. It was easier to forget the past when he had to constantly think about the present, when he had no future to consider. 

Enough thinking. Enough wondering. He would get his answers, some day, if the gods willed it. 

But right now, it was time to forget about the past, and go to sleep. Tomorrow, he would face it again, when he faced young Red. 

………………………………….

10:55pm

She was still leaning on the balcony, feeling the sea air blow through her hair. It reminded her of the trip to Kyoto by ship, and it brought back memories. It was like that time, all over again. The fear of the unknown, the hope of the possible. Scared that he would be gone for good, hoping that he would not be. 

She turned around, and looked at her captor, already asleep at the chair he was in. The hand that was not in a sling had fallen onto his lap. 

The wine had taken effect on him, Kaoru could see. It was more than easy to get the kitchen knife and ram it into his chest. 

But several reasons immediately came to mind for not going on with it. First, it was a morbid, dishonorable way to die, even if he was the enemy. Second, killing him would not get her off the island any faster. Third, killing him would not make Kenshin come back to her any faster. 

This much she had gleaned from her captor: he had subjected Kenshin to a slow, agonizing death. By what means, he did not say. But killing her captor would not take Kenshin off the death course placed on him. It may even set off a chain reaction that would hasten it. 

So why did she not tie him up and gain control, instead? For all those same reasons. 

Dammit, Kaoru. You're too nice. Too nice for your own good. That's why you never became anything higher than a dojo keeper. Or maybe you're just too afraid of killing him. Of killing anyone. 

He muttered in his sleep. "Nee-san. Where are you, nee-san? Nee-san." 

She wondered why he always called out to a sister. Not to a mother, or a father. Were they both dead? That would partly explain why he turned out this way, but not by much. 

"I envy you," she did tell him, whether he heard or not. "At least you had a sister." 

His eyes fluttered open. Wakened from a nightmare? Maybe. "Still can't sleep, aye?" 

"Thinking of ways to kill you, that's why," she answered, haughtily, truthfully. 

"Go to bed. You'll die of the chill here." He closed his eyes again. "Nee-san, doesn't want you dead." 

"And you? What about you?" 

But he was already back to the slow regular breathing of sleep. 

Whatever. Die of pneumonia, for all I care. 

She walked back inside and into the bedroom given to her. She crawled into bed, and curled up into a tight ball. 

Yahiko. Sano. Megumi. Tae. Tsubame. It's lonely here. I want to be back with you all. I try to be tough, but it's hard to be tough at night, when I'm alone. 

Kenshin. Hurry up. Come and get me. Get me out of here. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what they've done to you, what HE has done to you. I want to know that you're alright. I want to see you. 

So come and get me already. 

Hurry. 

…………………………………

I have no speck of Chinese blood in me, so I apologize if I'm doing something terribly wrong with that alliteration of Enishi's name. I probably am. I figured the triads would have given him a Chinese handle, and it wouldn't be any of the ones I've used in White and Black, very likely. 


	7. shinobi

Hiya. Thanks for coming back.

I'm about to use Misao in an entire chapter. Here's to hoping I actually do it right.

11:15 pm

He opened his eyes. It was probably the night air that woke him. It was too cold. He felt it in his healing wounds, which began to hurt.

He saw the moon surrounded by a myriad of stars. The moon looked the same in Japan as it did in China, he noted. His sister smiled on him the same way in Japan as she did in China.

He shook the bottle of Chardonnay back and forth. Empty. Oh, well. He had to be going to bed, anyhow. He had to get up early.

He passed into the house, peering into the window of the woman's bedroom. He opened the door to that bedroom when he passed it, to check on her.

She was curled up and hugging her knees, shivering, but she did not pull up the blanket over her.

"Ken…shin…find…me…" she muttered.

Hmph. She was special to his brother-in-law, all right. But he never fully expected for the feeling to be mutual. Brother-in-law must've done something for her, or to her.

How dare she make him forget my sister. How dare her.

The thought made him clench and open his available fist, and aim for her neck.

_No, Enishi._

It made him stop. He fell to the wooden floor, coughing and sweating.

Dammit. Dammit.

Die already, brother-in-law, so I can get rid of this woman.

The wine had made him dizzy, the dreams he already had had made him dizzier. Stop calling for him, stupid woman. He grumbled as he slowly walked out of the bedroom, and back to the hall.

If I have my way, he will never come back.

11:20pm

He wasn't back yet. That was very unusual.

And she was still at the porch, waiting for him.

Since they had arrived in Tokyo, Aoshi always came home for dinner, or a little past dinner time. There was even that afternoon when he came home earlier than Misao. He even had an argument with Megumi.

He had always told her where he would be, at least in general terms. Well, she did insist on it, after things went back to almost normal in Kyoto. So far, he had let her get away with it.

During this confusing week of terrible events, the two Oniwabanshuu worked separately, Misao and Yahiko together, and Aoshi either alone or with Saitou. Misao was used to it. It was not the separation from him that made her worry now. It was the fear of not knowing what he was doing. It made her remember what life was like when he was a fugitive and when he was an ally to the Juppongattana. That was not too long ago.

What if Aoshi-sama has some more information that he isn't telling everyone else? What if he had plans to defect again, to side with the enemy, to go away without her?

She heard Yahiko snoring. She shivered at the evening air.

Surely he's just looking for you, Kaoru-chan. She told herself. Yeah, that's what he's doing. But why does he have to do it in the middle of the night?

That's it. The suspense is killing me.

She decided. She braided her hair, got into her battle uniform, armed her kunai holders.

Yahiko could take care of himself, if anything happened, she decided.

She marched out of the dojo, and bounded into the street.

11:30pm

"Where is he, Saitou?"

"Who, weasel?"

"Aoshi-sama, of course. Where is he?"

"What is your concern with Shinomori?"

"He didn't go back to the Kamiya dojo. That tells me he's on a mission somewhere."

"It happens all the time."

"He never told me about this one."

"He is under no obligation to."

"He tells me that he HAS a mission, and that is all he has to tell me. He did not tell me about this one. I want to know where he is."

"He is on a mission. Satisfied?"

"No. Where is he?"

"I do not have to tell you."

"Saitou, tell me where he is."

"Classified information."

"I'm a shinobi, a ninja, wolf-man. Tell me."

"No."

"Saitou."

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"Give the woman what she wants, boss," Chou interjected. "It'll get rid of her faster."

"Alright," the inspector said.

"Thank you," she replied.

"I don't know."

"WHAT?"

"No lie."

"He's still working on the Kamiya case, if that'll help you, shinobi," Chou interrupted, emphasizing and drawling out the "shinobi".

"He's been working on the Kamiya case since we got here!" she squealed.

"But it's been three days since you last saw Kamiya in any form," Chou added.

Misao bounded out the door and out of the precinct.

"You talk too much, broom-head," Saitou grumbled.

"That's why I work for you, not for the arms dealer," Chou sighed.

11:50pm

The broom-head's cue was enough.

Aoshi had indeed told them that by necessity, the corpse they saw would have to be treated with chemicals soon, in order to delay decomposition. Probably in three days. He also reached this conclusion when he observed the second model Iwanbou, which had rotted by the time they arrived.

Putting that information together with the fact that the corpse was still at the cemetery, Misao knew where she had to go.

She was not afraid of the dark. She was used to the dark. But she was afraid of not knowing where he was.

The cemetery was quite a distance from the police precinct, because the precinct was in the center of the city and the cemetery was at the outskirts. Being of the poorer class, her friend had not been buried in the more popular but more cramped cemetery within the city, filled with marble stones. She had been buried outside of town.

Alright, Misao. Stop it. Stop it right now. Stop it before you cry.

She jumped the gates of the cemetery with ease. She armed her left hand with kunai, as a precaution. Then she sped into the woods, hiding in the trees as she went.

Aoshi-sama had brought them there only three days ago, and at night. She knew where to go.

He would be there. She just knew it.

She kept running. The moon was out. It was not too dark. She saw well enough in front of her.

Suddenly she slammed to a stop. She bumped hard enough for her to fall backward onto her bottom. She did not know what hit her.

While she rubbed her sore bottom, she looked up at the something that she hit. It was not hard, the way trees and rocks were hard. Rather, it was the way a well-built person was hard. So the something was a someone.

It was a someone, a tall young man in a dark outfit, scowling at her in the shadows.

"Aoshi-sama."

Another chapter down. After years of having at least a few people say something, it's painful to have none to a chapter for several days. But, I have to start learning to be professional. The real world doesn't work like ffDOTnet. Gotta get used to it. Sorry this is short, but I don't think there was much to say, anyhow. There will be more to say in the next chapter, once it comes. Although, how to do a one-sided conversation, I wonder… Also notice that I'm approaching manga material again, so any suggestions will be helpful.

See ya next time.


	8. pledge

Hiya

Hiya. Thanks for still liking.

I apologize for the delay. Been watching various anime, been writing original material, been reading books.

I managed to complete White and Black a few years ago because for the most part I could write Aoshi separate from Misao. So writing Aoshi and Misao being together for any length of time is not easy for me, me being a KenKao writer foremost. Here's to hoping that, at the least, I do it justice. Here we go.

* * *

12:00midnight

It was a someone, a tall young man in a dark outfit, scowling at her in the shadows.

"Aoshi-sama."

He did not have to say anything. He only had to scowl. She knew what it meant.

She only needed to plead for mercy.

"Chou told me, alright? I had to know where you were. You didn't say where you were going. I was worried. Have you eaten?"

"Aa," was the reply she received.

He raised an open palm in front of him, and warned her not to take any more steps forward. He then jumped up to the nearest sturdy tree branch. Misao followed after him.

From the higher vantage point Misao found a series of ropes hidden in the bushes, some small bombs hidden in the branches, and extra supply of kunai, stars, and daggers in a bag hidden inside a tree trunk.

Misao assessed the situation. The okashira was setting a trap for someone, and he was doing at the grave where they found the corpse that was not her friend. He was even readying enough traps and snags, in case the someone came with other people with him. He kept working at it, not ignoring her presence, but avoiding interference or interruption by her presence.

She was used to his silence, but she also wanted to know, from his lips, what was going on. What was so important, and so dangerous, that she was not informed.

"Why didn't you tell me? Or tell Megumi-san to tell me?" she spoke in a voice uncharacteristically as soft as the squirrels. As she had been trained to use at such moments.

He kept silence.

"At least tell me what is going to happen."

He stopped for a few moments. He looked at Misao, and she felt his eyes piercing the darkness to reach her own eyes.

"I want to know, Aoshi-sama. Please? I won't get in the way, but I want to know."

He remained silent as he inspected the ropes and nets.

Finally he nodded, slightly. "Very well."

He kept checking the ropes while he spoke rapidly and quietly. "I am expecting the puppeteer for the Iwanbou models to arrive tonight. The dollmaker. Among all of the members of Yukishiro's group, he is the one most likely to talk if coerced enough. He shall be forced to reveal the organization hideout. He cannot fight to full advantage. He shall be trapped. Preferably, he shall be eliminated. His skills should die with him." He paused and put the final knot on a row of knots.

There was steel in his voice, sharpness to his breath. To him, this was no ordinary mission. "But why?" she asked.

He remained silent for several moments, while he finished the knots. Then he answered. "There is a debt to pay to Himura."

"What debt?" she asked.

He did not answer the question. He resumed his work.

She insisted. "What debt, Aoshi-sama?"

But he did not answer, and she was left to think though it as the okashira jumped onto the ground to assemble the knotted ropes, while she knotted some of the ropes he left on the branch.

Aoshi-sama never liked unfinished business, nor did he like unpaid favors. So, this "debt" he mentioned is probably his way of repaying a favor that Himura did for him. But which one?

That one. The only one.

Himura gave Aoshi back to her.

She heard the story of the fight from Sanosuke. A spectacular duel it was, evenly matched. Back then the tall rooster-head did not know her, but he heard her name mentioned during the fight. Himura had brought him back to his senses, made him see what was important, truly important, to him.

If this meeting with the man who made the corpse doll, if this meeting will finish the Kamiya case, then, yes, it just may help bring Himura back. Make him remember what is important. Aoshi would have indeed repaid the debt.

Aoshi returned to the branch Misao was on, retrieving the rest of the rope. He thanked her for finishing the rest of the net. He read the comprehension in her face, and he finished his statement. "Once the debt is paid, my work is done."

"What do you mean, your work is done? There is still the organization to maintain, the people to keep up. Your work as the Okashira is not done!"

He did not reply at all. He went down again, carrying the knotted net with him. He spread this net over the surrounding bushes. He also cast the net on the ground surrounding the gravesite. He covered the net with soil and dust. Misao could still tell where the net was, but it is unlikely anyone else would.

He assessed the entire area one more time. Satisfied, he jumped back to the branch where Misao was.

He held her by the shoulders. "Go back, Misao."

She wriggled within the tight grip. "No, I won't!"

"Go back."

"I'm not leaving!"

"It is too dangerous."

"That's why I'm not leaving!"

He released her, and proceeded to toss a counterweight for an overhead net onto a higher branch. She noted an almost imperceptible sigh as the counterweight flew up.

Something was wrong about this situation, she felt it. There was something he was still holding back, something he was not telling her. There was such determination in the way he prepared everything about this operation, it scared her. What, indeed, did he mean about his work being done?

Did he expect to die here?

She had to know.

"Aoshi-sama."

He paused from his work. "Hm?"

"Why do you want me to go?"

"As I said, it is too dangerous to stay."

"What about you?"

"Do not worry about me."

Of COURSE she was going to worry! Why was he being so fatalistic about it? Why did he want her to leave so badly? Why did he insist on doing this alone? Because he planned for this mission…to be his last.

Not if she can help it.

She made him face her. "You will swear to me, Okashira," she said with severity.

He frowned.

"You will not die tonight. Swear it."

He remained silent.

"Swear, Aoshi-sama!" Small tears now fell down her eyes. "Swear!"

He looked away, and peered at the traps and ropes. He looked at her.

"Aoshi-sama!"

He kept looking at her. Surely he must have seen the glisten of the tears through the moonlight.

"You will come back for breakfast this morning! I'll cook! I'll make Yahiko wake me up when you arrive! Swear it, Aoshi-sama! You'll come home!"

Their faces were inches from each other. She felt his controlled cold breath, in and out, passing near her cheeks. She barely heard him grit his teeth, as he thought about his answer.

Finally he spoke.

"Yes."

She looked up at him, and smiled with much relief. When he said yes, he meant it. That's why she made him promise.

He will come home. Battered and bruised, probably, but he will come home. Because he said so. He said yes.

"Now, go back, Misao."

She looked up at him again, gazed deeply into those deep and dark eyes. Further negotiation was out of the question.

"Yes, okashira. I obey." She sniffed a little and rubbed away the last tear.

He nodded.

Watching her feet carefully, avoiding the ropes and the nets on the ground, she backed away slowly, constantly finding his face in the darkness. She stepped into the woods.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered.

"Aa."

With a final glance at him, she disappeared into the shadows of the night.

………………………………

12:50 am

An onmitsu was still running through the dark city streets, moving farther away from her beloved.

A redhaired man in the outskirts of the city had fallen to deep sleep, kept warm enough to live by a thin blanket.

A whitehaired man had finally fallen asleep at his bed, bandaged arm rested beside him.

A young lady tossed and turned in an adjacent room, calling for someone in her nightmares.

A young doctor slept in drunken stupor, dreamless, keeping away nightmares.

A boy had kicked the blanket over him in his exhausted sleep.

A young man, in another prefecture, slept under the stars, wondering about the people he left behind.

A police officer and his assistant had dozed off, one snoring on the long bench, and the other with head nodding behind a desk.

An old man was snoring loudly over a bale of hay at the stable in the police precinct.

One man remained awake, waiting for another man to arrive.

* * *

ARGH! Writing for Aoshi is HARD! (pounds head on table, pound pound) Enishi is way easier, I swear! And the chapter after this is ALL Aoshi?! Waaaaah. (pound pound pound) Help much appreciated. The following two chapters will have a lot of Aoshi and a lot of description, two things in the world that I'm not so very good at, so please help.

Okay, I think I'm getting the hang of this horizontal break thing. I hope you liked the rundown. It's also for my benefit, to reassess where everyone is already. By the way, Sano isn't in the general mix (except the one-liner above), because I'm not sure where he is hiking at the present situation, and I'm terrible at geography (my own country's, much more Japan's). As it is, it's tough keeping track of the people who stayed in Tokyo. Thank you for your patience and support. Comments are welcome.


	9. waiting

It's quite a common misconception that Shinomori Aoshi does not talk. Oh, he can talk a lot when he wants; he proved that on several occasions. But he doesn't chatter needlessly. That, and his being so analytical, makes him such a pain to write!

Here's to hoping I did it right. Here we go.

1:00am

She made it back, huffing and puffing. She did not want to look back and she did not want to slow down until she got to the Kamiya dojo. She did not want to think about it, at least until she got back.

When she reached the front yard, she first listened carefully for any changes since she left. There were none, and she proceeded onto the porch. Where she lay flat on her back, panting and crying.

She was glad to be safe, she was glad to know where Aoshi was, she was scared that Aoshi-sama was going to do something very dangerous.

"'Sao? That you?"

It made her jump, hearing a voice that late in the night. She drew out two kunai. Then she remembered that the voice was young, male, and sleepy. "Yeah, Yahiko. Go back to sleep," she called back.

"Hai….zzzzzz….."

She breathed better while she walked to the bedroom where the voice came. Her young friend had thoroughly kicked the blanket off him, and he was sprawled with arms outstretched on the futon. He slept like that when he was in Kyoto as well, and she was glad to see it. He was at peace with the world and with life.

He was not like that on the day she and Aoshi-sama came from Kyoto. As she lay still on her own futon, still not comprehending the stain on the wall and the funeral tablet, staring at the ceiling, with little tears falling onto her cheeks, she heard him sniffling. She took a peek at him, and found him curled up on the futon, hugging his knees.

She had heard about his story, after all. Without Kaoru, he had no mother. Without Kenshin, he had no father. No matter how bravely he talked during the day of avenging his adopted mother to save his adopted father, he was still frightened of life without them.

Now that there was hope, now that there was something solid that he could do, life was going to be back to normal. He could stay at peace with that.

He began to mutter in his sleep. "Get lost, raccoon…already cleaned the porch…"

She grabbed a blanket and a pillow from her own room. She walked onto the porch. She found herself a post with a view of the front gate. She then wrapped herself in the blanket. She found the diary they were supposed to give to Himura. She took this up as well.

She had no plans of going to sleep yet. She could not sleep, not when Aoshi-sama was going to fight someone from Enishi's gang. But at least she was warm while waiting.

She leaned on the porch, and opened the simple notebook.

Her handwriting was simple and elegant, befitting a female of the samurai class. Her sentences were sad and poignant.

She started to read. She started to wait.

…………………………

1:30am

Aoshi did not have to wait long.

The same way he heard the rustling of leaves that revealed Misao arriving, another rustling of leaves announced the arrival of his opponent. It was a different kind of rustling, heavier, more muffled with cloth.

He silently dropped onto the ground. He found the trigger to his net, and waited beside it. His kodachi was safely ready on his back.

Ten more minutes passed. Finally an added shadow appeared in the darkness.

It was the uniform of a _bunraku_ puppeteer, entirely dark, except for the skull mask that hid his features, a difference from the usual uniform. Arrogance on his part. It was better if he had dressed more casually, as an undertaker. He was more suspicious wearing the uniform. Had he not learned a thing or two from his arrogant leader? The leader was conspicuous, but he blended in his crowd.

The man carried a shovel, and he lowered it onto the ground beside the gravesite.

Aoshi had packed the soil around the grave after their dig. Only Misao would be able to tell the difference. The man did not. He began to dig.

Aoshi was not worried about Misao. He was confident in her abilities, and reaching home was easy. It was a correct choice to leave her out of this mission. He would be distracted by her presence, concerned about her safety. As long as he kept his promise to her, he did not have to focus on her.

It was important to this mission that he focus. His opponent was smart enough to assist in an elaborate trap. The man would be smart enough to have concealed weapons and a ready trap.

He waited. He controlled his breaths, and did not move from his position. Only a dead man made less noise and less movement than he. He kept checking his trigger and his net for snags.

Finally the man lowered his shovel to the ground and dusted off his gloves.

Aoshi tightened his hold on the trigger.

The man had opened up the soil to reveal the coffin.

Now it was time.

He let the man gloat over his success. The man raised the wooden lid. "That's a relief. You really shouldn't let the important things go—"

He pulled.

He released the net over him.

……………………………..

1:55am

The man was completely engulfed by the heavy rope net. He struggled to orient himself, as Aoshi emerged from the shadows, kodachi in hand.

He waited until the man was lying on his back and looking at him.

"You came back for it . . . When I saw that the second doll needed preservation from decay I guessed you wouldn't be far . . . "

The man did not answer, and did not resist.

So he asked his question. "Tell me. Where is Kamiya Kaoru?"

……………………………

Well. That came remarkably fast. Yeah, I'm starting to notice that getting to read again is improving my work again. I miss reading fiction books. Sorry for the short chapter. The next one will be much longer, thanks to all the dialogue, and all the talking Aoshi does, hehe. It'll also be a bit harder than this one, so wish me luck.


	10. duel

Argh, this chapter. It's full of action, description, and Aoshi. In other words, to me, it's quite a nightmare, because it's the combination of 3 things I'm not very good at. That said, I did my best. I hope you like it.

This contains the last 2 chapters of RK volume 24, maigo-chan translation. All dialogue in this chapter is not mine, but Watsuki-sensei's as translated. Gein's thought bubbles are not transcribed here. Majority of the description is mine, or me putting into words what is drawn.

* * *

2:00am

Aoshi walked out of the shadows into the darkness of the moonlight, kodachi in hand. He now had a good look at his enemy, Gein the rogue _bunraku _puppeteer, the operator of the Iwanbou models.

Gein knew him, of course. After all, he had seen Aoshi while inside Iwanbou I, working for Shishio. "Okashira of the Oniwabanshu spies Shinomori Aoshi . . . So this is your work."

Gein promptly released some fine strands and cut himself free of the net.

The strands flew near Aoshi's face and nicked it at the cheek. It was very sharp string. He knew what it was. "Diamond-edge wire—"

"Hm . . . truly the Oniwabanshu Okashira," the man complimented as he presented a retracting device above his left glove. "You're well-informed. Wires coated with crushed diamonds. Just a touch will tear flesh; a bundle of it can break bone."

"You understand how difficult it would be to fight with them," Aoshi retorted. Wire was too pliable and too light to be reliable.

"For avoiding unnecessary trouble, there's nothing better." Gein stepped forward. "Where have you hidden my corpse doll? It's not like the Iwanbou series, a product of functional beauty as a master mechanic--it's the pinnacle of artificial beauty as a dollmaker. My greatest creation, that deceived even the eyes of Hitokiri Battousai. It was proof that my creations are the equal of the human creations of God! It would be blasphemy to let it rot away. It must be left to go down in the history of crime!" He spoke with the devotion of a craftsman, the joy of an artist. The creator described his work with ecstasy.

Aoshi had no sympathy. The man deserved no sympathy. "I don't care about that. I asked you a question. Where is Kamiya Kaoru?"

Gein paused, then he sighed. "I give up. We both wear black and live in the darkness. I thought you might be able to appreciate the soul of my artistry. But you're just another philistine."

Gein outstretched the left hand. Aoshi focused on the hand, and the strings hidden within them.

"Prepare to meet your maker, Shinomori Aoshi!"

Sharp wires were released above and around him, cutting through stones, branches, and gravestones. He evaded, right and left, as dust and stone flew. That was not very easy, but not too difficult, either, since Gein was standing in one place. Avoiding Himura was harder. He fluidly inched his way closer to the enemy.

"Damn!" the man cursed. Gein identified the technique correctly. "Flowing-water movement . . ."

He was now inches away from his opponent, the distance of a sword strike. "Things which cut or bind pass right through water . . . There's nothing like it for avoiding unnecessary trouble."

Living in the same residence as the previous okashira gave him a perfect sense of humor…no matter how dry his delivery was.

The anger Gein had was palpable. "It's rude to be sarcastic with a straight face." He threw his hand backward, and Aoshi heard the rapid whir of strings. "However!"

Gein fired the strings at a group of gravestones, wrapping the strings around them and pulling them up. Aoshi leapt away from the rubble.

The man was strong, indeed. But his attack patterns were predictable. The enemy was no longer calm. He was fighting defensively, but giving the impression of taking the offense. The man wanted to catch Aoshi at a weak point. But Aoshi, in these conditions, had none. As long as he focused, as long as he kept a close watch on the source of the strings, all the attacks could be evaded, and he still was in control of the fight.

Gein was flustered. Aoshi watched him from a few feet away, still uninjured besides the scratch to his face. The man retracted the strings, and prepared for another wave of attack. "If cutting or binding won't work, I'll strike until you splash!"

The man thrust the strings more haphazardly than before. Gravestones and rubble flew from all directions. Aoshi jumped and evaded, keeping movements to a minimum. Soon he was hidden by rubble and dust.

The attack stopped for the moment. Aoshi could not see in front of him, but neither could his opponent. He crouched to catch his breath for a few seconds.

Gein gloated over his success, as Aoshi listened to the direction of the sound. "Enishi and Heishin underestimated the shadow puppeteer. Even the mechanisms of the Iwanbou series require extraordinary strength to manipulate. No amateur could handle them."

Aoshi took up his kodachi, and drew both swords.

"One finger supporting twenty kilos, movement becomes possible when you first operate a delicate mechanism by a tenth of a millimeter . . . By comparison, a few gravestones are no trouble at all. Now, it's time—"

Too much gloating. Aoshi stood, kodachi at the ready. "Now it's time? You don't feel like answering my question?"

Gein stepped back once. "Oniwabanshu Kodachi Two-sword style . . . I thought I might see it, but it's far exceeded my expectations. That's a shame. You have great strength, but if you go on living in the outside world, the only road open to you is that of some petty innkeeper. You were the greatest of secret organizations that lived for 300 years in darkness. As the fate of the Oniwabanshu's last Okashira, it's too bad, too pathetic . . ."

Aoshi kept a straight face. But he did recall the recent peaceful days at the Aoiya.

Gein stretched out a palm in welcome. "Will you take my hand, Shinomori Aoshi? In the pursuit of my next perfection, I need a new warrior. You, who live in the world of darkness, would be perfect."

Aoshi maintained the kodachi in front of him. He did think about what the man said, but he had already made up his mind.

"Unfortunately, I don't think being an average innkeeper is so bad. But that's neither here nor there." He spoke with conviction, remembering words spoken by a redhaired opponent. "Now that the new age has come, the shadow techniques should be quietly, secretly destroyed. But for your own private desire, this villainy exists in no small way in the world of men." He glared at his opponent. "This shadow villainy, by my shadowy strength, I will consign to darkness. This will be the final work of the Oniwabanshu Okashira."

Gein was silent for a few moments. "So that's the answer you found in your meditation in Kyoto . . . Though we both wear black, you and I inhabit a different darkness." Aoshi heard the whirring of wires as Gein raised the left hand. "Fine! But whatever the reason, those who obstruct my pursuit of perfection will be destroyed!"

Before the man could attack, Aoshi kicked his sword sheath, aiming and hitting Gein's left shoulder, disabling the left arm for a few seconds.

Aoshi charged, both swords in front of him. "Oniwabanshu Kodachi Two-sword Style Gokou Juuji!"

"Impertinence!" the man cried.

He sliced at midline as Gein jumped up. Gein pointed his wires at the nearest sturdy tree branch. The wires wound around the branch. Gein pulled himself up and hung from the branch.

But Aoshi knew that his blades connected. He did not have to look behind him.

The man panted in between sentences. "Wires may be used this way too. The foundation of doll-making is the basic use of both hands. From now on it's a true—."

The skull mask ripped in the middle and fell to the ground. Aoshi turned and now saw his opponent in the face: an old thin man.

"Yes. From now on it's a true fight between two men of darkness."

The old man glared at him from his perch. He gritted his teeth.

"It should be a little easier for you to talk now. Where is Kamiya Kaoru?"

Gein did not reply. He jumped up onto the branch. In the silence of the night, Aoshi heard the panting of the man and the creaking of the branch. The man had no intentions yet of giving up.

He had to force the man down. Otherwise he might have an advantage over him.

Aoshi walked to the trunk of the tree. Inhaled. Exhaled. Focused. Concentrated his ki and his strength onto the tree.

He reversed his swords. He attacked.

"Oniwabanshu Kodachi Two-sword style Succession technique Kaiten Kenbu Rokuren!"

Six rapid and concentrated slices to the center of the tree's strength, and the wood was split in half. Within seconds the tree tilted toward the right. The evening silence was broken by a loud crash.

When the dust settled, Gein was gone, but the wires he had used were still wound around the tree branch. From overhead, Aoshi heard the man's clothes billowing, as he jumped from tree to tree. Judging from the sounds of the movement, the man was fast, moving westward.

But there was no need to chase after him. He knew where the old man would go.

He looked again at the wires that Gein had left behind. He made one powerful slice at the branch and freed the wires. Several yards of wire was left, enough to be useful to him. He wound one end of the wire around one of his swords, and loosely wound the other end around his left hand.

He walked back to Kamiya's gravesite.

As he expected, he found the old man there, perched on another tree, overlooking the gravesite. The immediate area around the grave was clear of obstructions. Too clear.

He looked up at the old man, swords ready beside him. "Are you done playing tag?" he asked.

The old man chuckled from his perch. But he breathed heavily. "Any more struggle would only be wasted effort. But my corpse doll is hard to give up."

Aoshi kept silent.

"I propose a trade. As you wish, I'll tell you where Kamiya Kaoru is. But in exchange, you tell me where you've hidden the corpse doll. Well?"

The information was coming. He would not show excitement, as that would place things in Gein's favor. If the man was losing control of the situation, he was gaining even more control.

Gein kept negotiating. "I won't lie to you. I've already broken with Enishi, so I have no reason to protect him. For instance, I could easily tell you that his base is below a warehouse owned by Heishin on the west bank of the Arakawa river."

Finally, the information he wanted. ". . Done."

The man could be killed now.

But Gein spoke again. "Hm? Can you come closer? My old ears are going bad."

Oldest trick in the books. He looked at the soil around his feet and immediately beyond it. The glimmer of the fine wire stretched out on the ground came through the moonlight. Gein had made a net of his own. Stupid, turning his own trick against him.

The wires formed a web around his feet. Aoshi noted a clear space in the middle of the web. In order to efficiently attack from the ground, he had to avoid the intervening wires and reach that central clear space.

He walked to it, eyes carefully watching the glimmer of the moonlight. He stopped exactly at the space he wanted.

Gein drew the web around him.

"I've caught you, Shinomori Aoshi!"

He looked at the wires more carefully, now that they were raised. They were dripping in fluid. Oil. Very flammable oil.

"You can't take a step to attack. Your powers of mobility are cut off."

Such misplaced arrogance, old man, Aoshi thought. But you shall be indulged in your fallacy. Until the perfect time.

He watched as the old man raised a fuse to his face.

"This is the coup de grace," Gein sneered from the tree. "When used in mechanism, the wires are soaked in high-quality oil. One spark and boom! You can't lie when your life hangs in the balance. Tell me, where have you hidden my corpse-doll?"

The man was buying time. The man was frightened, holding onto his last card. He still had the upper hand, and he was in no mood for games.

He was as incensed and enraged as Misao and Megumi combined, and more, knowing what he knew from old text. While tears of joy and relief passed through the women and children after that first excavation, the infuriation he felt about the entire operation increased. That it was done, not to save a life, but to help end it, angered him.

He spoke. "I burnt it. I thought it was pitiable that the dead should be resurrected at your will, so I cremated it that it might never be seen again."

The old man's eyes flared with rage as he raised the fuse to the wires, and pulled on the web.

Now it was time. He loosened enough of the wire on the left hand, readied right sword over left sword, and with a powerful thrust of the left, sent the right flying toward the opponent.

"Oniwabanshu Kodachi Two-sword style Onmyou Hasshi!"

The fire had rapidly spread throughout the wire and now engulfed Aoshi. The sword hit Gein's shoulder.

"A fruitless struggle," Gein cried out. "Die quietly, you fool—"

Aoshi tugged at the wire. Good. It held. "You left your wire behind. I thought I'd make use of it."

Gein panicked. "Wait, wait! All right! I give in! I'll forget about the corpse-doll! Just wait!"

But Aoshi had no mercy for cowards.

He held onto the wire tightly. "No . . . For the Oniwabanshu, our missions are absolute. And I already told you . . . I will consign to darkness this shadowy villainy by my shadow arts. . . This is the final work of the Oniwabanshu Okashira!"

He pulled at the wire, and pulled the old man onto the flames. He thrust the remaining sword straight at the man's heart.

The mission was over.

……………………………..

2:55am

Then he remembered.

Misao's high-pitched voice rang in his ears as the flames singed his uniform. Swear it, Aoshi-sama! You'll come home!

Indeed. He swore he would return. He would see what he could do about that.

The fire was spreading rapidly through the nearby trees. He cut the wire loose from his swords and ran. The only safe place immediately in the area was below ground. He ran toward the empty coffin and dived into it. He controlled his breaths as the open ground was buried in stone and wood.

Eventually the fire would lose fuel or authorities would arrive. Until then, he waited, and pondered.

The mission was over. He had kept his promise.

And the debt was paid.

* * *

(EK flops onto bed.) It's finally over. Completed over a wave of inspiration during an evening. At least I could type his name without "-sama". (Flop)

I stuck with Aoshi's viewpoint because I can visualize that a least slightly better than for Gein. The last part (with Saitou in it), I'll save for the events in several hours.

Please be patient as the next chapter might not get typed for a while. It depends on real life. I promise you won't have to wait years. Maybe several weeks up to a month. Place on Story Alert so you can be warned. Thanks, and see ya.


	11. rest

Hello, and thanks for waiting

Hello, and thanks for waiting. We're back to original dialogue and material in this chapter. Argh, I hate writer blocks. Anyway, here we go. Another short one, sorry. The daytime chapters will hopefully be longer, so please wait a few hours, erm, chapters.

Damn you, Aoshi. You had me surfing about Zazen meditation. Eyargh.

* * *

3:00am

The fire continued to blaze above Aoshi. Of all the experiences he already had as okashira, this was one he never fully expected to have: to know how a piece of clay feels like being baked.

But he made a promise, and he intended to keep it.

He could not sleep here. He may not awake. He tried to start meditating while inside the hole, but it was next to impossible. The noise of falling trees and rocks, the heat surrounding him, the stench of preservative and bodily decay. It was hard to concentrate. It was also getting harder to breathe.

But he had to maintain control over his breathing. He had to keep trying. As the lotus position was impossible in the cramped space, he knelt, placed his hands in front of him, one palm over the other, and closed his eyes.

He forced himself to think through the fundamental steps. The steps he often took for granted.

Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly. Remove external concerns from the mind. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

Misao is alright. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

The major element of the case is now in your hands. They will disable that base, but that will be later, not now. Now, it is not a concern. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

Rest in the fact that all decisions after this are not yours to make, that you have done all you could, and that is enough. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

Rest in the fact that the future is not yours to make, but that you have closed the doors on the group's bloody past. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

Release the tension from the muscles you have used to do good. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

The surrounding area is not your concern. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

Simply rest and release. Inhale. Slowly. Exhale. Slowly.

Inhale.

Exhale.

………………………

3:30am

Smoke was seen rising from the distance, alternately dark and clear. Several columns were seen rising. Soon enough more than one man came running to the police precinct, hastily reporting about the source of the smoke.

At the room on the second floor of the building, two men were asleep at the inspector's office.

The office door swung open. "SIR!"

The inspector's eyes immediately flew open.

"We have reports of a fire spreading at the outskirts of town!"

The blonde-haired man also looked up then. He spoke drowsily, "Exactly where?"

"Near or at the cemetery!"

Chou sat up. Saitou sat up.

"Has the fire brigade been called?" the inspector asked.

"Ah….ah….ah…we think so…"

"Confirm it. And send an initial team to investigate."

"Yes…yes, sir!" The officer saluted then ran out the open door.

Chou slunk back into the bench. "So, what about you, chief?"

Saitou settled back down behind the desk, but he looked out the window at the columns of smoke. "I'll wait for more information."

"But what about…"

"Shinomori can take care of himself," the inspector smirked. "If his assessment is correct, we have a busy day ahead. I'd like to get a bit more sleep before then. Tell me when we have more information about the fire."

He settled back into the chair and closed his eyes once again.

……………………….

3:45am

Misao no longer understood what she was reading. It was not the fault of the handwriting, as was usually the case with Himura's letters. Rather, the characters were fusing into solid blocks of ink, as her eyelids began to come together and sleepiness began to take over. It was no use. She would have to finish reading the journal some other day.

She walked to her room again and returned the journal to its place among their things. Among those things, Aoshi-sama's satchel of spare clothes and weapons. Aoshi-sama. It was now two hours since she last saw him, and he had not returned yet. Of course, there was the consideration that he was waiting for daylight, which would be a wise option.

But she could no longer think straight as well, despite her training and relative experience. She and Yahiko had had a long day yesterday, in the summer heat, walking up and down the port area. Then she ran up to the cemetery, helped Aoshi-sama with his traps, and ran back to the dojo. In short, she was feeling her exhaustion.

She peeked at Yahiko. Good, fast asleep, mumbling about Tsubame. He deserved his sleep, and she was glad his was peaceful.

Drowsy, she walked back to the porch, where she had a pillow and a blanket. She knew she would be kidding herself that she could sustain a watch for him. But she still wanted to hear the gate open when Aoshi-sama came in.

She lay down where she had a good view of the stars and a good view of the gate. She prayed to the stars to watch over her Jiya, everyone at the Aioya, Megumi, Yahiko, Kaoru wherever she was, Himura, and of course, Aoshi-sama.

She closed her eyes, and entrusted her friends to the stars.

* * *

Within that two-year interval when this story completely stopped, I did learn a few things useful to this story. One is the passage of the unholy hours of the night. It's one of the terrible things about the life of a doctor-in-training: we have to work through 24 hours AND the 12 normal office hours of the next day. (At least, that's how it still works in my country. I know it's slightly different in other countries.) Because of that, I now understand what can actually happen at 3:00am. How drowsy people are at that crazy hour. Yeesh.

Again, sorry for the very short read. Also, I'm still accepting suggestions on how to avoid stereotyping the people. I still have many chapters to write as it is. To my loyal readers and reviewers, thanks for staying.


	12. dearest

Hello. Thank you for waiting. My head has been into original stories, Keroro Gunsou, and Katekyo Hitman Reborn. By the end of this thing we'll have finished 12 hours, 5pm to 5am. We still have 12 more hours to go, and the last five hours will be rather jam-packed. We'll deal with it as it comes. I more or less promise to finish this in the near future, hopefully before 2009 is well in.

Here we go.

* * *

4:00am

Aoshi was still aware of the heat in the earth surrounding him, but in decreasing intensity. The stench of embalming fluid and decay still wafted around him, but he chose to ignore it. He continued to control his breaths, still aware of the danger of suffocation.

He also recalled the specific location of the storage post Gein mentioned. Misao and Myoujin had indeed passed that area and mapped it. Their efforts were not completely in vain. He visualized the flow of people in and out of that area, as well as the amount of wagons and carriages normally to be found there. He considered the number of men needed to surround the area, and how many people were needed to infiltrate the building. He estimated a quick and silent operation, one that would disable their enemy with minimal use of manpower.

Until this mission was completed to the end, his debt was not yet fully paid.

He would pay it.

………………………………

4:30am

He opened his eyes, and saw snow and darkness. He closed one hand, and grasped damp soil and snow. A cold winter breeze blew his tangled red hair.

He tried to sit up, but even that was tiring now. Before, many nights and days ago, he simply did not want to move, but he still could. Now, he did not want to move, and he could not move if he wanted to. He fell back to the soft and white ground, tired from even that small effort. He was so exhausted, so weary, so tired.

Too tired to question seeing snow in late summer.

He did question seeing a young woman in a white kimono, standing a few feet away from him. Her hair fell behind her, pulled back just past the neck. She was smiling at him, and yet she seemed shocked to see him.

_My dearest. _

He looked up at her. His beloved. The one he had wanted to see, all this time. He managed a weak smile.

She bent down and helped him up to sit and lean on a tree. Even that left him panting and heaving. She held his hands while he caught his breath. It took him more than five minutes.

_I am glad to see you. I have longed to see you again. _

He looked at her dark eyes, partly covered by her hair, emphasized by her pale face. "Tomoe." He reached for her, and fell back onto the snow. From the ground, he stretched out a hand to touch her. He weakly asked, "Where am I?" He somehow knew, since she was here with him, where it was, but he needed to be sure.

But the woman in white shed a tear, then another.

_You should not be here, my dearest. _

"You are mistaken. I should be here. You are here, and she is here. I need to find her here. I need to ask forgiveness…for failing her…"

The woman in white wiped her tears and shook her head. She helped him up again to lean on the tree.

_My dearest, oh, my dearest. Do not look for her here. _

"Where is she, then? Tell me, please. I will go to her, introduce her to you…"

_She is not here. _

He shook his head with sadness. He sighed deeply. "You are mistaken. She is here. Maybe somewhere else. But she is here…"

_You do not understand. Here, we all know each other. We all know who is new. She is not one of them. She is still with you. _

"You did not see what I saw…"

The woman in the white kimono kneeled before him. She held his cheek and touched his hair.

_Listen to me, my dearest. She is not here. She is still with you, still waiting for you. Your time to be here with me has not yet come. Do not throw your life away to be with me. She is still with you. She still needs you. _

It was too many words. He was too tired to understand them all. He spoke in a daze. "What…are you saying?"

She held his face and kissed his forehead. She placed a gentle hand on the left cheek, where two scars were. She ran her hands through his hair, until her fingers touched the ends. She then stood up.

_I love you, my dearest. I will wait for you. But your time has not come. Go back, dearest. Go back to her. She needs you. _

"I…do not…understand…"

_Do not die yet, Kenshin. Not yet. Not now. _

The woman in white was fading, disappearing before his eyes. She kept pleading in her quiet and low, soothing voice.

_Wake up, dearest. Please, wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Open your eyes. _

He wanted to sleep and never wake, stay asleep forever, stay with her forever, but her voice pleaded that he stay awake, stay alive. Her voice pounded at him, as he faded in and out of the world of snow and winter, in and out, in and out.

………………………………

4:45am

The fire was dying out. The ground around him was cooling, and he began to feel the proper coolness of earth in the morning. The smell of wood smoke wafted over him.

Aoshi heard voices above him. Gruff, male voices. Probably the police. He heard the movement of stone, wood, and rubble over him.

He began to wonder again about Misao. But she was almost certainly back at the Kamiya dojo by now, fast asleep, and at peace.

The Kamiya dojo. Himura. The status of their ally was still uncertain, but surely deteriorating.

He recalled that there were two final things that had to be done, to end this situation completely. The first: to weaken Yukishiro's power and make the man useless. He would help in accomplishing that, as soon as Saitou arrived to discuss attack plans. The second: to take down Yukishiro himself for good. He would assist in that, as well, if and when the time came. It was up to Himura.

Saitou was still not among the party he heard overhead. His voice was not among them. Aoshi took several deep breaths and exhaled slowly. The time for action would be later. He would wait a while more.

………………………...

4:55am

Saitou's office door slammed open. It made Chou fall off the bench he was in. It certainly awakened the policeman.

The officer who had entered saluted. "Sir, the fire has been controlled. Evidence of a short battle was found."

Saitou nodded. "Take me there."

"The carriage is waiting downstairs, sir." The officer saluted again and exited.

"What about me?" Chou asked as he sat up from the floor.

The inspector grabbed a coat and his sword. "I don't care what you do." He closed the door behind him.

* * *

Wow. 12 hours have already passed. 10 chapters over the last few months, even if they're short ones. My review count has dwindled rather drastically, but I figure that's partly because most of the crowd is already over at the Naruto or Code Geass or Bleach sections. Can't be helped. My thanks to Raeyn who marathoned this story. Thank you for those who are still reviewing. See ya around.


	13. water

Hello. Let's take advantage of the fact that I have control of the computer, and I'm on a roll. The final part of this chapter contains words taken from the maigo-chan translation. I found alternate translations online for these words, and it did make me wonder how accurate either translation is, but since I've started using maigo-chan, I'm sticking with that.

Here we go.

* * *

5:00am

Her voice kept pounding at him, in the darkness where he was. Her voice pleaded with him, over and over, until he could not ignore it.

_Wake up, Kenshin. Wake up. Please, wake up. _

He was surrounded by darkness, and surrounded by her voice. If he sank a little more into this darkness, it would open up again into the world of snow and winter, where she was. If he surfaced a little more, woke up as she wanted, she would disappear, possibly never to return.

"What is there to go back to?" he asked her.

_Go back to her. _

"I do not understand you."

_I will meet you in your dreams. I will be here, and we will talk. I will tell you what I know, why I know. But it is important that you wake up. Otherwise, you will be here forever. _

"But that is what I want…"

_No, dearest. You do not know what you are saying. There are still people who need you, people you will regret not helping. If you stay here, she will be one person you will regret not helping. _

"Kaoru? No. No…"

_I shall explain. I promise to explain. But please, for her sake, for mine, and for your own, please wake up. Open your eyes, and wake up. _

He finally did.

…………………..

5:30am

From a distance just past the great darkness he heard someone speaking loudly. "Red! Hey, Red! Are you dead? Hey, Red!"

A cool breeze hit his face. He heard a few birds chirping overhead. A songbird was particularly close, but he took no notice. He slowly opened his eyes, and saw the sun rising behind a clump of trees. Dust, grime, and rubble surrounded him.

The smell of fresh soup wafted up to him, along with the gentle low notes of a female voice, singing a song from a faraway village. "You awake, dearest?" the voice asked. "Breakfast will be ready shortly…." The voice drifted away with the fresh breeze.

The smell of hot water came up to him. Hot water had a scent, too, when it was burning in the pot. Another female was screaming his name at the top of her voice. "Help! The soup's burning! Help!"

These are not true, his mind told him, and he agreed. She who was able to cook is gone, and she who I had to cook for is gone. This is not true.

Oh.

Morning.

Again.

Still alive.

He sighed. He did not stretch out his limbs, did not even rub his eyes. His stomach growled, his joints ached. He did not notice.

Should be dead.

He sighed again, and closed his eyes.

But a grimy person just above him noted this small movement, of opening his eyes, sighing, and closing his eyes.

"Ah, good," the man sighed. "Almost thought we'd have to bury you today, Red."

The man propped him up between two walls that met at a corner. The men then walked off to several men watching a large pot of soup boil. He pumped a water pump up and down, filling a bottle with water. He returned to the redhead, carrying the water bottle and a bowl of the soup. He presented the bottle to the redhead.

"Come on, drink up," he said. "It's just water."

Kenshin shook his head slowly.

"I'm not asking," Kuma said. "Take it."

The redhead raised his hands to reach for it, but was barely able to hold up the bottle. The other man held up the bottom of the small bottle, as water trickled into the redhead's mouth.

His brain did not care, but his body hungered after that water and took it up quickly. He realized how parched his tongue and throat were, how dry his mouth was, how badly he needed the water. He consumed all the water in the bottle, and his body asked for more, but in his brain, it did not matter either way.

Kuma thrust the bowl of soup into his hand, and instinctively the redhead raised it to his mouth and took it in. He sipped at it while Kuma filled the bottle with water again. The bottle returned to him, and, held by the other man, water filled him again, moistening his mouth and his throat once more.

Kuma shook his head. "You are worse off than you're telling us, Red."

The redhead returned bowl and bottle. He reached out for his chained sword.

"Don't die on us, Red," Kuma said.

The redhead looked up at him, surprised at his words.

"At least, for the sake of those kids who came for you. Don't die on us." Kuma walked away, to get his own share of soup.

The sudden rush of water and nourishment made him sleepy again. His left hand closed on the chained sword. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, did not fight the urge to sleep, knowing that was all he would do for now. Sleep and dream and wake again to sleep and dream. But not sleep the eternal sleep he wanted to have. Not yet.

Because she would not let him.

…………………..

5:45am

More voices came from overhead, along with the sounds of debris moved and shoved here and there. Wood that had fallen above the hole he was in began to be moved away. He breathed more regularly now, more comfortably.

A shout came from a few meters away. "Inspector! This was found in the woods."

At a short distance above him. Several pairs of feet ran to where the inspector was. Aoshi finally heard the voice he wanted to hear.

"I see. Partial proof of the deceased's identity. Unfortunately the deceased himself is a blackened skull . . . That was the corpse found at Kamiya Kaoru's gravesite. And the opponent he fought . . ."

Aoshi pushed the last beams and logs off the hole, jumped out, and appeared before Saitou.

"So it was you," the inspector puffed at his cigarette and blew out a long trail of smoke. In his hand he held the remains of Gein's skull mask.

Aoshi did not appreciate the tobacco, but there were worse vices. He stood up. He quickly assessed his immediate surroundings. Ultimately only a small patch of forest was burned, down, as the fight occurred in the area already cleared for the graveyard. Too many gravestones had been reduced to rubble, though. "I know where Yukishiro Enishi's Tokyo base is. It was quicker to tell you here than return to town." He dusted himself off.

"That's good of you," Saitou's stinging voice said. He looked around him at the smoke, wood, and rubble. "And you managed not to burn to death."

Aoshi gestured at the hole he rose from. "The ground had recently been disturbed. I made use of the empty grave. It wasn't very difficult."

Saitou smirked. "You had no wish to become a blackened skull?"

"Of course not. I still have a job to do. And there's someone waiting for my return." Only then did he feel the exhaustion of the evening's exploits. "Carriage?"

Saitou turned and thumbed at the police carriage he had used to arrive at the graveyard. "We will need the next hour or so here. There is a map of the city in the carriage."

The policeman had just answered the questions in his mind. Aoshi nodded. "Obliged."

Aoshi was let into the carriage as he approached it. He noted that three officers were stationed around the carriage. He sat inside it, breathed a deep sigh of relief.

He immediately dozed off.

………………………..

5:55am

Having folded up his blanket and futon and having stored them away, Yahiko decided to take a walk around the dojo first. He was too sleepy to do anything yet, but he felt like being asleep too long and needing to wake up already and do something.

He scratched his head at Misao, sprawled on the front porch, arms and legs outstretched, asleep like a little girl, talking in her sleep. "Eh heh heh heh . . . Lord Aoshi . . ." Misao was still in her battle uniform, no less. She had not gone inside to change into sleeping clothes.

He sighed. "Talk about a fool's paradise."

He wondered what breakfast he should get in an almost empty house.

* * *

Again, we will leave poor Ken-san and Misao for a few hours, and focus on Aoshi (oh…no…more Aoshi….groan…), Saitou (groan again…), and the other people who should be awake in the coming hours, including those in the island and the grandpa I left in the barn. I apologize about this one-liner thing I have right now. It's probably the result of too much Marcus Zusak recently. His way of packing a punch in only a few words is incredible. Go read his books The Book Thief and I Am the Messenger. Again, thank you for the reviews. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be, because I will have to think it out. See you when I see you.


	14. waking

Hello. I'm back. I like watching tai-chi, I think you'll be able to tell in this chapter. I wish I found someone to teach me. Here we go.

* * *

6:00am

Kaoru became aware of the warm sun through the window, several birds chirping and flying just outside that window. As she stretched and yawned, she became aware of the sounds of a fighter training just below her. They were sounds that were familiar to her, even if the voice was slightly different. It brought back memories of home….of her father, of herself…Yahiko…Kenshin.

She breathed in and out, in and out, the way her father taught him, and suppressed a sudden urge to kill Yukishiro Enishi as he practiced his stances downstairs.

She heard a few more solid haaaa's and yaaaa's through the window. She came to the window and watched him as he went through stances she was unfamiliar with. He was trained in Chinese ways, after all.

He began to kick at a nearby tree, still protecting the more injured arm, holding it at the chest. As dents and chips appeared on the tree, she saw the raw power her captor had. He was not like her, who needed a weapon to be useful. She sighed. She was glad she kept her composure.

He grew silent and practiced slow and deliberate movements of his arms, the legs moving only with the flow of the arms. Martial arts done this slowly but with this much intensity was beautiful to behold, and Kaoru admired it in spite of herself.

She watched him look at the tree with such determination she wondered if any man could set a tree on fire from all the glaring at it. He assumed battle stance as he faced the tree, both arms out.

Her training got the better of her. That right arm of his was in no condition yet to be hitting trees. She remembered herself shouting at either Sano or Yahiko, or even Kenshin, warning the boys that they were over-exerting themselves again. She tightened the robe around her and ran downstairs.

She reached the porch as she heard a high-pitched, painful scream. Enishi was now doubled over, cradling the injured arm.

She walked over to him. He tossed his head at her and turned his back. "Are you here to say 'I told you so'?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said, unafraid. "Let me see the arm."

His teeth were clenched as he faced her and presented the forearm. The movement made him cringe.

She pressed gently on the forearm, watched where he winced. There was no new blood, which was a good sign. She gently unwound the bandage around the forearm. She then wound the bandages again, taut but not tight. "Move your hand and fingers," she ordered, and he opened and closed his right fist. He did not wince. She nodded. "Keep it rested for today," she said. "Proper rest is as important as proper training. Surely someone must have told you that."

He tossed his head.

She turned her back on him. "I'll cook rice. That, I can do. Wait a while, if you don't mind."

He did not face her as he spoke. "There are pickled vegetables in the pantry."

"Alright."

……………………

6: 15am

The old man woke up to the sounds of stablemen chatting and greeting horses. He scratched at his back and brushed the hay off his hair. He peeked into his satchel, and smiled as he took out the small bottle of perfume he had bought. He released the cork and whiffed deeply from the scent. He remembered better days, waking up to see a beautiful wife and being awakened by a pretty daughter and a crying baby son.

He took up his broken spectacles. He thought about that son again, presumably alive, a powerful man now. A man that he never became. He wondered what he looked like now, more like him or more like his mother. He wondered if he would ever see him again.

But there were begging rounds to make, and more money to ask for. And within the day he had to return to the village, return to Red.

He trundled toward the water pump, and scooped up some water to drink and wash his face.

It was there that several of the stablemen saw him. "Hey, old man! Get going! We don't have food for you here!"

He figured as much. Still, he wanted to ask. "Do you at least have a few coins to spare, so I can buy breakfast?"

"Sorry, Oibore," one of the older stablemen said. "We give you slack, we'll have to give slack to everyone of your kind, too. The chief won't have it."

He smiled in understanding as he put the straw hat over his head. "Thanks for the water and the bed, though, kind gentlemen," he bowed to them.

The stableman chuckled and waved him off.

……………………...

6:30am

Megumi groaned. Morning already, she had a splitting headache, and she was a silver coin short now because of a sudden flash of kindness to an old beggar. No handsome men to annoy today, either. The man from Kyoto was gone on some mission again. The rooster-head was somewhere in the woods, running from his sadness his own way. And Ken-san…all her training gave her a rundown of what she would immediately do when she saw him…water, ointments for wounds, medicine for infections…when she saw him. She hated herself for feeling sorry for herself.

She believed in powers in the heavens, like everyone else. But she believed more in an angel on earth, the one who knocked sense into the man from Kyoto, the one who saved her from an inevitable life, the one who accepted her before everyone else did.

She believed in Ken-san.

She prayed that her faith would not fail her.

In the meantime, she would get up from bed, and live up to the mantra she had been given. She would live past the mistakes, the pain, the despair, the loneliness. She would live.

She hated him for forgetting his own words. She hoped he would remember them, and soon. She hated herself for not being able to shout at him, the way she slapped Kaoru and talked sense into her.

She got up. She went to the kitchen and looked for the teapot.

………………………

6:45am

Kaoru placed a bowl of rice and chopsticks in front of Enishi. She placed another bowl in front of her. Between them, she placed a plateful of pickled vegetables. A teapot and two cups of tea were already on the table. His teacup was left untouched.

She took up some radishes, ate those. They were good. She took up some of the rice. She sighed. The rice was overcooked. She tried some of the tea, but she had seeped it too much and had gotten bitter. She sighed again. She was never going to get cooking right.

"Sorry about the rice," she told her captor.

He harrumphed and kept eating, both the vegetables and the rice.

"How's the bandaging?" she asked.

He looked at his right arm for a moment, and harrumphed again. He took up some more vegetables onto the rice bowl.

Besides the snobbery, he ate much like Aoshi or even like Sano, Kaoru mused. The way she expected any normal young man would eat rice and vegetables. He looked so normal like this. Maybe, in a different time, she would have gotten along with him, too…the way she got along with Sano…whacking his head and scolding him about always eating for free.

She did not notice that Enishi was already staring back at her. "What are you looking at?"

Or maybe not.

……………………….

6:55am

The carriage door opened. Aoshi was immediately awake and ready with two kunai. He lowered them when he saw Saitou appear and sit opposite him.

"You realize that people will claim for property damages," Saitou took out a match and lighted a cigarette.

Aoshi shrugged. "Charge the organization responsible."

"Yours?"

The okashira glared at the officer.

Saitou smirked and puffed. "Rested enough?" he asked.

"I wish to see this mission completed first," Aoshi replied. He was still somewhat pale, but alert.

"You need the redhaired idiot," Saitou puffed.

"Granted," Aoshi nodded. "But there are aspects of this case where we don't need him yet. Such as this aspect."

The inspector opened the map of the city, and spread it before the okashira. "Where?"

"The west bank of the Arakawa," Aoshi said, "where Heishin has a warehouse. Misao and the boy noted a warehouse in the west bank, where a good number of Chinese immigrants were seen. It is owned by a Japanese merchant, though, possibly as a cover." He scanned the map, ran a finger at the area surrounding the Arakawa river, and pointed. "There."

Saitou nodded. "We have people familiar with that area. I'll have them contacted. In the meantime, breakfast?"

"Yes."

* * *

Hey, junyortrakr, nice to see you're still around. Next chapter might be after a while, I'll think it over first. There's Kujiranami, Tsubame and Tae, maybe Yahiko again. Oh, yeah, Aoshi and Saitou. We'll see. Thanks for still reading. See you when I see you.


	15. memories

Hello. Sorry for the very long delay. A few things happened to my original work which derailed some of the planning for this story. Thank you for waiting.

* * *

7:00am

Yahiko scratched his head. Misao obviously had done something the night before without him. She was not going to wake up anytime soon to cook breakfast. There was nothing left from dinner yesterday.

He shrugged. Might as well do something about the situation.

He did a little sweeping around the house and the yard. He could not stray too far from the house, in case Misao did wake up and they would still go on their surveillance mission. He dressed. He got ready to walk around, asking what neighbors wanted to get done for errands.

...

7:15am

Enishi had dressed into fresher clothes, keeping the bandaging Kaoru had done to his arm. Kaoru remembered how good-looking this enemy was, quite the striking figure in a Chinese silk shirt and pants. She sighed and looked down at her bathrobe. There were always fresh ones from him, but still. She wanted her kimono back.

"Going around the island again?" Kaoru asked as she washed the dishes.

"I need not ask permission from the prisoner," he said as he slung his sword behind his back.

"You still expect enemies HERE?" she asked, wondering about the sword.

"Always," he replied. He closed the kitchen door behind him.

...

7:30am

Megumi dragged herself to work, just a few blocks away from where she lived. Much of the hangover had left her, but it was still hard to go to work, when almost everyone she knew was falling apart around her. Only Shinomori did not break, but he was not much for conversation either.

She reached the gate of the clinic and took out her keys. She knew it was a sign that she was still felt terrible, when the key did not connect properly with the lock.

She stepped back and took several deep breaths to calm herself. As she did so, she saw the old man from last night, still wearing the same dusty rags, old straw hat, and broken glasses.

"Oh, it's you again, grandfather," Megumi smiled sadly at him as she fumbled again with the lock.

The old man bowed. "Your kind gift last night was very helpful to me, dear lady. I thank you."

"Good to hear," Megumi finally heard the lock give way. "Sorry I can't help you about breakfast. There's no food here."

"That is alright, dear lady, I'll look for it elsewhere."

She went into the clinic, and opened the back door. She found the old man at the back door, his straw hat in front of his chest as he bowed.

"I'm really sorry, grandfather. I have no food here," she repeated. "My senior took home the eggs from yesterday, and the carrots, too. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "If you would please, dear lady, and if it would not cause you too much pain...could you tell me more about Red?"

"Ken-san?" she confirmed.

Oibore nodded.

She offered a chair beside their work table in the kitchen. By now she was used to old and poor people of the city. To some she showed her nasty side, but to many she showed her kindness. A kindness she never expected to have inside of her.

"I'll have to ready several things," she said. "Would you mind?"

"No, dear lady." He sat down.

She placed a glass of water in front of the old man.

Megumi walked here and there, setting water to boil, readying towels and bandages, grinding roots and pills, keeping her hands busy while she spoke. She told the old man about how she met her Ken-san, how he accepted her into the Kamiya household when all the others were still wary of her. She told him the stories she heard about how the others met Kenshin.

She told the old man the story Ken-san told them about his past. How he met Yukishiro Tomoe, how he got involved in the war, and how he began to wander after Tomoe died. She chose her words, but she also told him about the attack by Yukishiro Enishi and his men, and its ultimate effect on Ken-san.

She poured it all out. There had been no one to talk to about her memories. There was nothing to lose in talking to an old man, who knew Ken-san, however vaguely.

"We became friends because of him. He protected us all, in different ways. That protection is what bound us, brought us together. He saved Kaoru from people who were going to take her house. He saved Yahiko from a life on the streets. He saved Sano from himself. He saved me from a miserable life. He saved Tsubame by helping Yahiko. He even saved those two from Kyoto, Yahiko told us. Now that Kaoru is gone, he is gone as well. And we have all just...well...drifted. Like him."

The old beggar nodded and listened in silence. The silence was actually welcome.

The silence was broken by a childish voice. "Hey, Megumi!" She turned and saw Yahiko standing at the door. "Need anything done? I got no breakfast."

She smiled. "Good timing." She searched for paper and a pencil, and listed down several things she needed from the market. She took out her purse and counted out the money, with a little more for Yahiko. "Go get yourself some onigiri. And thank you."

"Sure thing, foxy lady!" He waved as he sped out the door.

As for the old beggar, she gave him a copper coin. "I don't have much money left, but this should be enough for one rice ball. Thank you for listening."

He bowed and gave his thanks.

...

7:50am

His eyes opened again. It felt like he had just closed them a moment ago, but the sun was now high in the sky, and starting to warm his skin.

He tried to sit up again. He even tried to stand. That taste of water and soup made him remember the rest of himself. When was the last time he had stood up and found a place to relieve himself, when? Since he had not had water, there was no need for it before. But his tongue felt parched now. It wanted more water.

When was the last time he stood? When Sano pulled him up and punched him. After that, he never did stand again. He did not feel the need. He just watched the days turn to nights, when he could sleep, to wake up to watch the day turn to night.

He leaned heavily on the chained sword beside him, kneeled on one leg, and tried to raise himself with the other. He pulled himself up. He breathed heavily, but he was now standing.

But the hilt of the sword gave way under his weight. He tripped and fell forward, panting.

Tiring. Exhausting. Need water. Water. Dizzy. Ground spinning. But, can't sleep. Not being so dizzy like this. Can't. Need water.

"Hey, Red, are you alright?" another man came up and asked.

Too tired to even ask for it. He closed his eyes.

"You want us to take you to the free doctor?"

He was already fading into unconsciousness. "Water," he managed to say.

He heard shouts just beyond him, while the man propped him up onto the wall, away from the sun. He felt water guzzled down his throat, followed by cold soup, then some more water. And a little more. And more. Until he raised a hand to say he now had enough.

He tried again. He lowered the sword, and found a nearby stick that reached up to his shoulders. He raised himself with the stick. He raised one leg then the other. He managed to stay standing. He looked around, still dizzy, but found a small bush isolated from everything else.

He placed one foot in front of the other, slowly, leaning heavily on the stick, one foot dragged in front of the other. It took many moments, but he reached the bush.

He lowered and opened, and released.

He could not remember the last time he did that. Granted, it was not something anyone took time to remember, but now that he thought about it, he could not recall when he last did it. Megumi said something once. It should be done more than once a day. How many days has it been? How many? How was Megumi? He had not seen her since...since...how long was it already?

He closed up, and dragged his feet to the water pump. Someone had left a bucket there. He took up handfuls and handfuls of water, still thinking. How long had it been? How long since?

But did it matter?

He had exerted himself more in a few minutes than he had in so long. His legs and arms already felt tired. He dragged himself back to the wall. He reached for his chained sword, relieved to see it was still there. He sighed. It was too tiring to stay alive.

He fell to his side, his eyes already closed as his head reached the hard ground. Too exhausted to realize he was now asleep.

* * *

BTW I'll be joining Nanowrimo so there's a likelihood you may not hear from me for a month (unless I procrastinate about the story I'm making). I promise to finish, either this year or early next year. It's high time I finished this thing anyway.

For those of you still faithfully reading my work, I thank you sincerely.


	16. work

Hello everybody. I'm back from a month of NaNoWriMo, and my brain is still reeling from 28 days of being with characters of my own making. Writing and planning a whole long story all at one is a different experience for me. Writing and uploading for places like this requires a somewhat different mindset from one I find is required for novel-making.

Anyway, here we go.

* * *

8:00am

He reached the beach by now. It was not a large one; he could see the both ends without straining his eyes. He had a clear view of the sea, and the coastline many miles away.

He knew there were a few other people in the island, several people he had scattered in the woods, in case someone came in the night, or even the day, without his permission or knowledge. He had passed several of them on the way to the beach. They answered in whistles as he passed, and he told them to carry on. He was not worried about them.

He was thinking about his brother-in-law.

He could not think about it properly in the presence of that young woman who could not cook.

In her presence, all he could think about was how stupid this whole plan was. No matter what he said in front of her, that he knew what he was doing, that everything was going to plan, that Himura was finally getting what he deserved...in her presence, seeing her eyes accusing her of murder that has not happened yet...her eyes were followed by his sister's voice in his head.

What have you done, Enishi?

It was only when he was completely alone when he remembered it all. His sister thrust straight through with a sword. Years of wandering the streets. Days at the bottom of a ship, a stowaway to another land. Months of more wandering, before someone thought they saw a future in him. Years of tearing down that future, taking down countless people and countless money along the way, making his own future.

There was only one future for him. To send his sister's husband to hell.

And yet his sister asked him:

What have you done, Enishi?

This was not the sister who smiled above him. This was the sister who knelt down before him when he scraped a knee and a shin after falling from a carriage when he jumped at it from a tree.

What have you done, Enishi?

It was the sister he could not lie to, could not refuse anything.

But he had the perfect answer. He raised his head, looked up at the sky, his silk jacket accepting the sea breeze as it blew through him. He smiled.

I paid it back, nee-san. I paid it back. What he did to you. I paid it back.

But his sister was still kneeling before him, shaking her head.

"What do you mean by that, nee-san?!" he screamed into the sea. "I did it, nee-san! What you wanted!"

She kept shaking her head.

"I did what you wanted me to do, and now you say no?" he shouted. "I did what you wanted!" He let his arms fall to his side. "I did. It's too late for you to say no to me, nee-san. It's too late."

He took his sheathed sword from behind his back. He took out the sword and threw the sheath onto the sand. He practiced the basic positions of his style, partly his making, mostly a combination of what he learned as a child in the outskirts of Edo and from several books in Shanghai.

He remembered the girl who bandaged his arm, but only for a moment.

He swung above, below, straight thrust, left side, right side. He sank, bending one knee and extending one leg, swiping the sword down, then up.

His forearm stung through all the movements. It made him remember her, his hostage, but more importantly, it made him remember his movements.

He wanted to feel the movements. To know that they felt like. The movements that brought down his sister's husband.

When his forearm hurt so much he could no longer swing, he stopped. But he did not wince, did not scream from the pain. He faced the sea again.

I did what you wanted, nee-san. I did.

......................................

8:15am

While he was away, she did it. She had wanted to do it for a while now. Now she could.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! KENSHIN! WHERE ARE YOU?! GET ME OFF THIS ISLAND! AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

"SANOOOO! I want to smack you so hard right now! YAHIKO!! You're getting into trouble again! SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE!

"I hate hate HATE white-haired ghosts in Chinese silk jackets! Hate hate HATE!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

She took a deep breath after that. "That felt good." She took another deep breath. "Yes, it did."

Then she sighed and frowned.

No one was coming. No one that she knew. It probably would not be happening soon. If it would ever happen.

She shook her head, shaking away the thought she did not want to have.

He will come, she told herself. He will come. Eventually. But he will.

After that, she looked for the broom and started sweeping the floor. It was something to do. After she was through with the sweeping, she would start wiping the furniture, and the bookshelves in the library. Later, she would think about lunch.

........................................

8:30am

Megumi's day was starting in earnest. There was now a line of people, waiting for her to call them in. Grandmothers with baskets, grandfathers with hands over hearts, mothers carrying sleeping babies, mothers carrying coughing children. Her senior would also be around soon, to help her with the assembled small crowd.

Good, she thought. A lot of good business today. Enough work until noon. A few hours that she did not have to think of her worries for her friends, almost her family.

Yahiko returned from the market, with a basketful of bandages and medicines from the apothecary. Megumi made him place the bandages and medicines on a shelf.

"By the way, here," he said, and showed her an onigiri. "Best in the market. For you."

She took the rice ball, held it and looked at it. "Thank you, I think. You're right, I didn't have breakfast. But what about you?"

"Ate mine on the way back, thanks, Megumi," he said. "You have your good days." He grinned and waved as he exited through the back door.

She tossed her head, threw back her hair with the back of her hand, and smiled. "I'm always a good girl, and don't you forget it," she chuckled as she called in the first patient.

......................................

8:45am

Shinichi's day was starting in earnest, at last. The first few hours were devoted to orientation, about the events of last night, about the important matters for the day.

That orientation commended the night shift for their immediate, if rather too enthusiastic, response to an informant. A Chinese restaurant had been raided for information regarding a regular customer, a man who was the leader of an international smuggling ring. The night shift was then scolded for their harsh treatment of ordinary citizens.

The orientation then proceeded to inform the day shift about an early-morning operation done at the cemetery. A fire was noted and was quenched by the police. Inspector Goro Fujita identified the victim as one of the core members under Yukishiro Enishi, the ringleader in question. The inspector was still out, they were told, still keeping an eye on a developing situation related to the Yukishiro case. Soon several of them would be deployed to assist him.

A victory for the police. They would go celebrate tonight.

It was one of those days that Shinichi was glad to be in the police force.

He was old enough to know the war, but not old enough to have fought in it. He knew the good that came out of that war, though, and he knew he wanted to die protecting the new peace, and to live seeing it prosper.

It was alright with him if he was given the work no one else wanted to have. He just thought that he was being part of the force this way. Someday people would see what he was good at, that he was worth keeping and promoting.

For now, as the new person, he was assigned to help guard the prison. That usually just meant that he got the older guards their water and their keys, without them having to walk.

He walked with the guards as they checked on each prisoner, scolding or chiding each one as they passed. Shinichi chuckled uneasily and grinned warily as they did so. The people behind the wooden bars were still people, after all. They deserved to be locked up, but they did not deserve derision.

But that was just him. He sighed. He would probably be as cold-hearted as the rest of them some day. But not right now.

There was one prison that scared even him, though. The one near the end of the route.

Kujiranami.

That prisoner was a mountain of a man, twice his size and several heads taller. The stump scared Shinichi as well. It was capable of holding a cannon attachment. Worse, the prisoner did not acknowledge any of the guards. He always droned, "Bat-tou-sai...Bat-tou-sai..." like a chant or a spell.

Of course Shinichi had heard stories about the Hitokiri Battousai. He had even seen the man a few times within the precinct, because of the hitokiri's connections with the inspector. A surprisingly small man with long red hair. The man did not stand a chance against the bulk of Kujiranami. So it scared Shinichi that the mountain of a man was after Himura Kenshin.

But the guards had passed Kujiranami, and the rounds were done. Everyone was safe behind bars. All one had to do now was fetch the sushi they ordered.

All in a day's work.

Shinichi sighed. Someday, someday soon, he would see real action. Someday.

.....................................

8:55am

Saitou and Aoshi alighted from the carriage, looking both ways before crossing the street. Not because of any carriage suddenly passing them. Rather, to make sure that no one recognized them as they entered the building. So far, no one seemed to have noticed, but one cannot be too sure.

They entered the building, an international trading company that specialized in cotton. They followed a subordinate as they were led up to the second floor, to a room that overlooked the warehouse at the riverbank.

"Yes, I vouch for this officer," Saitou answered the unspoken question.

"Good," the okashira replied.

They were led to the room where they would wait. Several officers were already inside, one of them beside the window and watching the street below. They turned and sniffed as the men entered. The okashira, after all, still smelled of wood smoke.

"Anything?" Saitou asked the men.

They all shook their heads. "A few messengers have come and gone. Frantic. We suspect they have received word of the attack on the Bunraku puppeteer."

Saitou nodded. "Report if there are any important developments," he said. "If there are none, wake me in two hours."

He glanced as Aoshi sat on the floor, leaned on the wall a few feet away from the window. The okashira folded his arms in front of him and his head dropped down.

Saitou followed suit. There was a ready plan. It would be easy to deploy officers and subordinates as necessary. The less people were involved in the actual attack, however, the better. He sat on the chair behind a desk, leaned a head on the back of a fist, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Completed in a few hours. I guess I still have the Nano high. Thank you for waiting for the last month, and thank you very much for reading. I'll see what I can do about 9 o'clock. Finally I can leave Saitou and Aoshi for a few hours. I'll see about the rest of the people. Until then, see ya.


End file.
